


And That Has Made All the Difference

by mikripetra



Series: star cross'd lovers [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Rose Tyler, Bad Wolf Rose Tyler, Bechdel Test Pass, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode AU: The Day of the Doctor, Episode: The Day of the Doctor, Established Relationship, F/M, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Jealousy, Marriage, Pining, Romance, Self-Hatred, Telepathic Bond, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Needs a Hug, The Doctor Loves Rose Tyler, The Ninth Doctor fought in the Time War, Time Travel, Time War (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikripetra/pseuds/mikripetra
Summary: “Alright. Love humans, me,” he said, gently. “But what the blazes are you doing on Gallifrey?”Rose finally met his eyes. They were exactly as she remembered, and somehow different: the same blue, the same worry in his gaze, but something was missing. He was carrying himself differently. Standing straighter, less lines around his eyes. He looked hopeful. Stressed, but ultimately content.“Doctor,” Rose breathed.Her Doctor- her first Doctor- quirked an eyebrow at her. “We’ve met, then?”A rewrite of "The Day of the Doctor" in which Rose and 11 have a telepathic bond, the Ninth Doctor fought in the Time War, and the Moment doesn't take a human shape of any kind. It all ends up looking quite similar: three Doctors, three TARDISes, one Bad Wolf, and one big, red button.
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/Rose Tyler, Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, The Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: star cross'd lovers [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057187
Comments: 232
Kudos: 317





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Three Doctors and a Baby](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312880) by [NoPondInTheForest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoPondInTheForest/pseuds/NoPondInTheForest). 



> Basically, I'm taking all my annoyance at the lost potential of "The Day of the Doctor" and turning it into a story about how much the Doctor loves Rose, no matter what body he's in. Enjoy!

When she woke up, Rose was face-down on a dirt floor.

“What…” She hoisted herself up to her elbows, nearly groaning at the effort. Blimey, it felt like someone had bashed her upside the head with a shovel.

“I’ll say,” answered a terrifyingly familiar, masculine voice, tinged with annoyance.

Rose shot upwards. Her hair flopped over her face in her haste to stand up. She shoved her hair behind her ear impatiently, brushing straw off of her clothes.

Her eyes were still trained on the ground. She knew what she was about to see, but some part of her was still praying this was all a dream.

She slowly raised her gaze upward, and when she caught sight of that leather jacket, her heart spasmed, painfully.

Rose took an inadvertent step backward, nearly tripping over a box in the middle of the room, about as tall as her knees.

She cried out in alarm, raising her hands defensively on instinct, when the man grabbed her arm, quick and sure.

“Woah!” he exclaimed. “Be careful, there.”

Rose realized that she was shaking. “But you’re…you’re not…”

He tilted his head at her, curious. As if on instinct, he reached out and knocked his knuckles against her forehead, much more gently than the first time he'd done it. She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

“You’re human, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” she choked out.

“Alright. Love humans, me,” he said, gently. “But what the blazes are you doing on Gallifrey?”

Rose finally met his eyes. They were exactly as she remembered, and somehow different: the same blue, the same worry in his gaze, but something was missing. He was carrying himself differently. Standing straighter, less lines around his eyes. He looked hopeful. Stressed, but ultimately content.

“Doctor,” Rose breathed.

Her Doctor- her _first_ Doctor- quirked an eyebrow at her. “We’ve met, then?”

* * *

_That Morning_

Three days after her twenty-ninth birthday, Rose Tyler woke up alone.

Well, not entirely alone.

She stroked the wall next to her bedframe, still half asleep. “Hello, beautiful.”

The TARDIS hummed in the back of her mind, pleased.

“Where’s himself got off to, eh?” she murmured, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

Rose felt something tugging her to the left, like a hand on her arm.

“Thanks, love,” she yawned, getting out of bed. She couldn’t help but smile. The air smelled like pancakes.

 _Good morning,_ she mentally projected to the Doctor.

A wave of contentment washed over her. _It’s around one o’clock in London, actually, but good morning._

She sent him an image of her sticking out her tongue. She could just barely hear his laugh in response.

By the time she made her way to the kitchen, body dressed and hair brushed and her face full of makeup, she started to hear him.

From the hallway, she could tell he was reciting something, muttering under his breath like someone else might sing a song they’ve heard on the radio.

“Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,” he said, “and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought-”

“That Shakespeare?” she interrupted.

The Doctor turned around, still holding a skillet full of pancake batter, face splitting into a grin.

He gasped in mock surprise, holding his free hand to his chest. “What light through yonder window breaks?”

“Oh, sod off,” she giggled.

He grinned even wider, dopily.

“Pancakes?” she prompted.

His eyebrows flew upwards. “Right! Yes! Pancakes!”

She took a seat at the kitchen table, letting the cup of tea he set out for her warm her palms. He had his jacket off, suspenders stark against the white of his collared shirt.

“Anything special on for today?” Rose asked.

“Fancy a week in ancient Mesopotamia, followed by future Mars?”

Rose sipped at her tea. “Will there be chips?”

“On the moon,” the Doctor replied, his smile audible.

Just as he was about to bring the plate of pancakes over to the table, the TARDIS listed sideways. Rose’s cup fell forward, the tea spilling in an arc across the table. The Doctor lost his footing and nearly fell, grabbing at the wall at the last second- the pancakes were a lost cause.

“What’s happening?” Rose cried.

The TARDIS made a low, unhappy noise. _TARDIS interference detected._

The two of them raced into the console room, the Doctor grabbing his tweed jacket on the way.

He grabbed the nearest screen, eyes flying over the Gallifreyan symbols flashing at him.

“We’re taking off, but the engines aren’t going!”

The Doctor ran to the front doors, throwing them open. Rose grabbed the nearest lever in fright at the sight of London miles and miles below them. The Doctor turned to look directly above the TARDIS, and whatever he saw made him incensed with anger.

“Doctor, what is it?” Rose shouted, the wind from the front doors making her hair blow all over the place.

“It’s a bloody helicopter! They’ve got a hold of us!” The Doctor reached outside for the old-fashioned telephone he’s had there for ages.

“Doctor, that phone doesn’t work, remember?” Rose called. “Not connected to anything, you said!”

“Fixed it ages ago!” the Doctor shouted back. “Wired it up to the same network as your mobile, works anywhere in time and space- if I can _get_ it, that is!”

The Doctor grunted in exertion, one hand scrabbling at the inside of the door while the rest of his body leaned much too far out of the TARDIS for comfort.

The Doctor stayed there, on the phone, apparently listening to something.

“Who the hell are you phoning at a time like this?” Rose asked.

 _UNIT,_ the Doctor told her. _They’ve sent the helicopter. I’ve got a hold of Kate Lethbridge-Stewart._

“No kidding,” the Doctor said into the phone, before holding it up above him, where it could pick up the noise of the helicopter whirring. “Next time, would it kill you to knock?”

The TARDIS veered to the right, and the Doctor lost his grip on the door.

“Doctor!”

Rose raced to his side, managing to grab his legs at the last second.

“Have you lost it?” she shouted at him as he hung upside down, arms waving madly in the open air. “Why haven’t you wired that telephone to the _inside_ yet? Or gotten a bloody mobile?”

“I don’t think now is the best time for this conversation!” the Doctor yelled.

He grabbed the telephone from where it was dangling, banging him in the forehead.

“Woah! I’m just going to pop you on hold,” he said, before promptly slipping from Rose’s grip.

“Doctor!” Rose yelled, out loud and in her mind, jumping for him.

She leaned out as far as she could without losing her grip, searching madly.

“Hold on,” she breathed. She turned and looks directly underneath. There he was, hanging from the underside of the TARDIS and grinning like an idiot.

“You alright down there?” she called.

“Just peachy!” he shouted back.

* * *

When they landed, Rose silently thanked the universe that she decided to get dressed before breakfast. She felt a ripple of amusement from the Doctor at that, unsurprisingly.

The Doctor whipped his arm up into a salute in the face of a small group of people looking at him with undisguised awe on their faces. Rose stood to his left, ready to fight with him if need be.

“Why am I saluting?” the Doctor muttered.

 _Because you’re a right idiot,_ she told him. The corners of his lips quirked up almost imperceptibly into a smile.

A woman with chin-length blonde hair came up to them, wringing her hands. “Doctor, as Chief Scientific Officer, may I extend the official apologies of UNIT.”

“Kate Lethbridge-Stewart,” the Doctor began imperiously, “a word to the wise. As I’m sure your father would have told you, I don’t like being picked up.”

Rose just looked at him, eyebrows creeping up her forehead. He had such a strange way of dancing around what he actually meant to say, in this body. She was still getting used to it.

“Yeah,” she drawled, facing the woman, “that was a bit of a dodgy move, to be honest. We’re here if you need help, but you can’t just go picking up the TARDIS like it’s your property or something. It hurt her, too.”

Behind them, the TARDIS whirred in agreement.

The woman- Kate- blinked at them, baffled. “Yes. Of course. Well- I’m acting on instructions direct from the throne. Sealed orders from her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the First.”

Kate handed the Doctor an envelope, sealed with red wax and yellowed with age.

_Didn’t she order your execution once?_

_Yes, she did. Never did figure out why she was so cross with me._

“Her credentials are inside,” Kate said.

The Doctor looked at her quizzically, before beginning to rip open the envelope with deft fingers.

“No, _inside._ ” Kate gestures at the large museum behind her.

The Doctor started after her, but not before turning to the girl with glasses and dark hair, wearing a lab coat.

“Nice scarf,” the Doctor complimented, pointing at the girl with double finger guns.

The girl looked like she was about to faint.

Rose couldn't help but feel pleased. This girl was obviously head over heels for the Doctor, and he'd only looked at her for a second- and even then, just because he liked her scarf.

Rose stepped toward her and lay a hand on her arm. “I’ve been there. You get used to it.”

* * *

As they made their way through the museum, Rose reached out to the Doctor, not wanting to be overheard.

_UNIT, weren't they working for the Slitheen way back? They're like Torchwood now, then?_

The Doctor smirked beside her. _Don’t let this lot hear you say that. Huge rivalry, they’ve got. But basically the same thing. Except UNIT, I worked for them back in the seventies and eighties. Never actually resigned. Guess I still work for them, to be honest._

In front of them, Kate abruptly stopped walking, standing in front of a huge painting covered in a sheet. The guards that were trailing them this whole time whipped the sheet off in one smooth move, and Rose was suddenly flooded with emotion.

“Elizabeth’s credentials, Doctor,” Kate said, but Rose could barely hear her through the cacophony of sound inside her head.

Explosions. Gunshots. Wailing, the screams of children and adults and generals and footsoldiers and artists and civilians alike. So much suffering, neverending, constant, and forever.

 _No More._

Kate blinked at her, and Rose realized she’d said the words out loud. The Doctor still stood next to her, stiff as a board.

“That’s the title,” Kate said, looking quite taken aback.

“I know the title,” the Doctor murmured. Rose stiffened. The Doctor, _this_ Doctor, was only ever quiet when he was very, very upset. Who could blame him?

“Also known as Gallifrey Falls,” Kate continued.

“But that’s the War,” Rose interrupted. “How can the Time War be here?”

“You’re right. This painting doesn’t belong here,” the Doctor snarled, “not in this time or place. It’s the fall of Arcadia, Gallifrey’s second city.”

Rose took a hesitant step toward it, unwilling to stray too far from the Doctor’s side. It was like a war in her head: she was seeing one thing in front of her, but it was magnified a thousand times inside her mind, snippets of the Doctor’s most painful memories echoing back at her.

Rose reached a hand out as if to touch the painting, drawing back in shock when her hand went _inside_ it.

“It’s bigger on the inside,” she said. “But like 3D. Is that a Time Lord thing, then?”

“Exactly,” replied the Doctor. “A slice of real time, frozen.”

Quiet as anything, the Doctor’s hand slipped into hers.

She squeezed it, trying to be as reassuring as possible. Rose didn’t ask if he was alright. She knew he wasn’t.

“He was there,” said the Doctor, softly.

“Who?” Rose asked.

“Me. The other me. The other, other me. Two of me ago.” The Doctor laughed, suddenly, and it sounded horribly wrong.

“Big ears, right?” Rose asked to clarify, trying, and failing, to lighten the mood.

Kate glanced between them, confused.

“I’ve had many faces, many lives,” the Doctor said, mostly to Kate, to explain. “He was the Doctor who fought in the Time War, and _that-”_ the Doctor gestured in disgust with his free hand at the painting “-was the day he did it. The day I did it.”

The Doctor swallowed anxiously, his hand trembling in Rose’s. “The day he killed them all. The last day of the Time War. The war to end all wars between my people and the Daleks.”

The Doctor kept talking, like he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “And in that battle there was a man with more blood on his hands than any other, a man who would commit a crime that would silence the universe. And that man was me.”

Explosions danced behind Rose’s eyelids. If it was this painful for her, what on Earth could the Doctor be feeling right now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work was very much inspired by "Three Doctors and a Baby," and I encourage you to check that out. This, however, will be very different- both works are a remix of the same episode, but I'm going to be changing different things than NoPondInTheForest and I hope to take it in a different direction. 
> 
> This will be continuously updated, never fear! This is only the beginning. 
> 
> Please, please leave a comment if you enjoyed this, or if you have any thoughts about the story I've stitched together. Thanks so much for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

“Why’ve you brought us here?” Rose demanded. She was trying to keep the vitriol out of her voice. But there was only so much she could take when she could feel the Doctor’s emotional agony increase with every second he stared at this painting. “The Time War’s done with. What does it matter to you?”

Kate stiffened. Rose could tell she wasn’t used to people talking to her like this.

“This painting only serves as Elizabeth’s credentials,” said Kate, stilted. “Proof that the letter is from her. It’s not why you’re here.”

Rose quirked an impatient eyebrow. Kate gestured to the letter that the Doctor was still holding in his free hand.

Rose reached over to take it from him. Wordlessly, he handed her the half-opened envelope, the paper falling without resistance from his unmoving fingers.

She let go of the Doctor’s hand, tore it open, unfolded the paper, and began to read aloud.

“My dearest love…” Rose frowned. Well, she wasn’t expecting that.

She glanced up, and everyone in the room suddenly seemed to be looking anywhere _other_ than at her.

Rose cleared her throat and continued. “I hope the painting known as Gallifrey Falls will serve as proof that it is… _your_ Elizabeth who writes to you now. You will recall that you pledged yourself to the safety of my kingdom. In this capacity I have appointed you as curator of the Under Gallery, where deadly danger to England is locked away. Should any disturbance occur within its walls, it is my wish that you be summoned. Godspeed, gentle hu-”

Rose’s eyes bugged out of her head. “ _Husband?_ ”

“What?” the Doctor squeaked. He grabbed the letter, running over it with his sonic screwdriver.

“The paper’s genuine,” he muttered, “but she recognized the last face, so it must’ve been him, but it can’t be…”

Waves of distress came at her through their bond. Rose couldn’t help but soften.

A horrible thought came to mind. She’d heard pieces and snippets of their time apart, but the Doctor had always spoken of it in the vaguest possible terms. It wasn’t important, he insisted, now that they were together again.

She thought of her second Doctor, skinny and pinstripes and the _best_ hair, terribly lonely and lost. She thought of him falling into bed with whoever would have him, trying to drown out the memory of Rose, if only for a moment.

Rose couldn’t doubt the Doctor’s love and commitment to her, not with their minds intertwined like they were now. After the initial spark of jealousy, she just felt sad.

 _I get it, Doctor_ , she said, trying to get him to feel her understanding. _It’s alright. You can tell me the truth, I won’t be cross._

He looked down at her, frantic. “No, you don’t understand. It’s not that I married her and I don’t want to tell you, I don’t remember her. Not at all- just the time she had her guards try to shoot an arrow through my head.”

Rose’s eyebrows narrowed. He wasn’t lying- she’d be able to tell. But something seemed off about all of this. Her instincts were screaming at her to turn back.

“Well,” she said, taking a deep breath, “best figure it out together, then, eh?”

His relieved smile made it all worth it. Well, mostly. If she found out he was married to anyone _else_ today, she might honestly slap him.

“This way,” Kate said, looking extremely uncomfortable. Both the Doctor and Rose jumped at her interruption, having almost forgotten she was there.

The Doctor straightened his bow tie, took Rose’s hand again, and started after Kate, the girl with the scarf trailing behind them.

They followed her into a nearby service elevator, and once they made their way to the basement, they found themselves in front of another, massive painting.

Rose’s heart did a funny twist in her chest. She swallowed, blinking fiercely. She wouldn’t get upset. Not here.

She gazed up at the Doctor’s last face, pinstripes nowhere to be seen as he stood arm-in-arm with the Queen of England.

“Your hair’s all wrong,” Rose said quietly, forcing a laugh. “I have this urge to stick it up the way it should be.”

The Doctor glanced her way, eyes downcast and full of emotion, before facing forward again.

“Right,” he said, letting go of Rose’s hand to rub his palms together in anticipation. “What’s happened?”

“Welcome to the Under Gallery,” said Kate, leading them into a room filled with statues covered in sheets. “This is where Elizabeth the First kept all art deemed too dangerous for public consumption.”

Rose spoke up. “Are you talking ‘dangerous’ like it’d make the chavs want a revolution, or ‘dangerous’ like it’ll strangle you to death?”

The Doctor barked out a quiet laugh. He crouched down to the floor, scooping up a handful of the white dust that covered it. “Stone dust.”

“Is it important?” Kate asked impatiently.

The Doctor looked up at Kate, his green eyes dancing with amusement. “In 1200 years, I’ve never stepped in anything that wasn’t.”

A quiet, strangled noise sounded from behind him. The Doctor and Rose turned to see the girl from earlier, still wearing her scarf.

“Oi, you,” began the Doctor, focusing on scarf-girl with laser-sharp intensity. “Are you science-y?”

“Oh, er, well- er, yes,” stammered the girl.

“Got a name?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ve always wanted to meet someone called Yes.”

Rose elbowed the Doctor in the side. “What’s your name?”

“Osgood,” said the girl, looking extremely overwhelmed.

The Doctor whirled around. “Now, I want this stone dust analyzed, Osgood, and I want a report in triplicate, with lots of graphs and diagrams and complicated sums on my desk, tomorrow morning, ASAP, pronto, LOL.”

Now Rose was getting nervous. This Doctor had a habit of acting like an overexcited puppy, but it only happened in one of two circumstances: when he was excited, or when he was very disturbed. He was obviously still shaken by everything that had happened with Elizabeth the First, and he was deflecting. He could fool everyone except her.

“Do I have a desk?” the Doctor asked.

“No,” answered Kate, short and clipped, like she was dealing with an annoying child. Rose bristled. How could no one else see the kind of pain he was in?

The Doctor snapped his fingers in Kate’s direction. “And I want a desk.”

The Doctor started forward, Rose hurrying along. Behind them, she heard Kate mutter to Osgood, “Get a team. Analyze the stone dust.”

Osgood started wheezing.

“Inhaler!” Kate snapped.

Rose frowned. Kate brushed past her to follow the Doctor, but Rose stayed behind.

“Hey,” she said to Osgood, “You alright?”

Osgood blinked at her in confusion. “Yes. Perfectly. Sorry, I’ve got asthma.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Rose said, trying to sound as friendly as possible. “My mate Shireen’s got asthma, and she’d never let anyone rip into her over it. You shouldn’t let Kate talk to you like that, honestly. I used to be a shop girl in London- everyone there thinks you’re nothing. You seem like you’re smart.”

Osgood had started blushing at the beginning of Rose’s little speech- by the end of it, she was starting to resemble a tomato. “Th-thank you, Ms. Tyler.”

Rose actually laughed at that. “Oh, come off it. It’s Rose. Much more ordinary name than Osgood. Yours is brilliant.”

For the first time since they met, Osgood’s mouth was twitching into the hint of a smile.

“You want to know a secret?” Osgood asked quietly.

“Sure.”

“It’s actually-” Osgood glanced over Rose’s shoulder. “My first name’s Petronella.”

Rose tried to keep her face carefully neutral. She was being offered a gift of trust, here- she couldn’t ruin it. “Well, listen- my middle name’s Marion, and that’s way worse than Petronella. I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

_Rose, you’ll probably want to see this._

“That’s himself calling,” Rose said. “You coming?”

Osgood followed her down the hallway as they walked at a brisk pace.

“I don’t understand,” Osgood muttered, agitated. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, telepathic bond, we’ve got. It’s how you get married in Gallifrey’s traditions.”

Osgood started wheezing again. “ _Married?”_

“Yeah, why, didn’t you-”

Rose’s footstep suddenly had a lot more _crunch_ to it than usual.

She looked down. “Oh, blimey.”

The entire floor of the room they’d entered was covered in broken glass. The Doctor was bent over on the ground, picking up pieces and examining them with his bare hands. He had a bright red fez perched on top of his head. Rose took a brief second to wonder whether he’d found it here in the Under Gallery or simply pulled it out of his ever-expanding pockets. It was a question for later on.

He strode over to her, gesturing at the room as a whole. “Rose, look at the shatter pattern. The glass on all these paintings has been broken from the inside.”

“As you can see,” said Kate, “all the paintings are landscapes. No figures of any kind.”

“So?” asked the Doctor.

“There used to be.”

Kate handed the Doctor a tablet with pictures of the very paintings they were looking at, but something was wrong. Kate was right. In the original images on the tablet, there was at least one person in every painting.

“Something’s got out of the paintings,” Rose concluded.

“Lots of somethings,” added the Doctor. “Dangerous.”

The two of them locked eyes, matching grins spreading on their faces.

“This whole place has been searched,” Kate cut in. The two of them reluctantly turned their attention to her. “There’s nothing here that shouldn’t be, and nothing’s got out.”

Suddenly, the ceiling seemed to rip itself apart. A whirling funnel of translucent, yellow-tinged energy formed out of nowhere. Rose cried out in alarm, grabbing the Doctor’s arm on instinct.

Something about it seemed intensely familiar to Rose. Something about the way it felt, the way it sounded…

Was that singing she was hearing?

“Oh no, not now!” cried the Doctor. “I’m busy!”

“Doctor, what is it?” Rose asked.

“Is it to do with the paintings?” Kate asked, at the same time as Rose interjected, “Is it the Bad Wolf again?”

The Doctor whirled to face Rose. “Bad Wolf? What do you mean?”

She tried to share the faint impression of _familiar_ she had gotten from the thing, the singing she could almost hear.

The Doctor’s eyes widened. “Fascinating. I wonder…”

He turned back around to face the whirl, tilting his head in consideration. “Oh, of course. I remember this. Almost remember.”

The Doctor took the fez off his head, gazing at it like it held the secrets of the universe. “This is where I come in.”

 _What do you mean?_ Rose asked the Doctor mentally, but he was uncharacteristically silent.

Oh no. Rose knew what that meant. He was planning something, and he _knew_ she’d think it was a horrible plan.

He whipped around to face her, his steady green eyes filled with something akin to glee. “I love you.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he had already thrown the fez into the whirling fissure. Before she could get another word in edgewise, he ran up to the portal, throwing himself into it as he yelled, “Geronimo!”

“Oh, no you don’t, you daft idiot,” Rose growled, rolling up her sleeves. “You’re not leaving me behind. Never again.”

Just as Rose was gearing up to jump in after him, she felt a hand on her arm. She turned to see Osgood, her eyes huge and pleading.

“Rose, don’t go,” Osgood begged.

“Where the Doctor goes, I go.”

“But you’re just a human!”

Rose smiled at her. “That’s never stopped me before.”

And with that, Rose jumped headfirst into the spinning portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More coming soon! Please leave a comment below, you'll make my day :)


	3. Chapter 3

_The Last Day of the Time War_

_Five Minutes After Rose Tyler’s Arrival_

Rose sat down on the box she’d almost tripped over a few minutes earlier.

“Where are we?” she asked, gazing up at her first Doctor.

He frowned. “You mean you don’t know?”

Rose sighed, exhausted. Her husband wasn’t here. Wherever he’d gone, it was far enough that their connection had snapped. Her temples throbbed with pain.

“Gallifrey, you said,” she replied listlessly. “But which part? What are we doing here?”

It was quiet. There was sunlight streaming through the windows. At first, Rose had been terrified that she’d been dropped right in the middle of the Time War- but she’d seen that, inside the Doctor’s head. It was much too peaceful here to be anything but Gallifrey before the war had broken out.

“You know me,” the Doctor replied. “I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here, you know. What’s your name?”

 _Nice to meet you, Rose,_ said the Doctor, a long time ago. _Run for your life!_

Rose pushed the memory aside. “Rose,” she answered. “Rose Tyler.”

He smiled blankly, nothing behind his blue eyes but polite interest. “We meet in my future? Or have I forgotten?”

Rose narrowed her gaze. He looked so similar to when they’d first met, but there was a tangible difference. A great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. She was right, then- the War hadn’t started yet.

“Future.”

He nodded, digesting the information. “Right, then. Best not tell me anything to important.”

He grinned, then, crookedly. “Might ruin everything. I can be a right idiot, me. Might never even meet you now.”

“Don’t say that!” she cried, automatically.

His smile faded into a look of concern. The Doctor fiddled with the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Why’re you doing that?” he asked her.

“Doing what?”

“You’re…” The Doctor gestured vaguely toward her with both hands, and the movement was so similar to her husband, it made her _ache._ “You’re reaching out to me. With your mind. It’s almost like you’re…”

His eyes widened with the realization. “No.”

Rose snapped up her mental shields. She hadn’t even realized. She was so used to the Doctor’s presence in her mind, she’d been trying to connect with him. Her mind didn’t recognize the difference. But this Doctor wasn’t _her_ Doctor, not anymore. It was like trying to connect two wires to make a circuit run, but one of the wires was missing. You couldn’t make it work with just one end.

“Sorry, just- just forget that, alright?” she tried, knowing full well he’d do nothing of the kind. This was her first Doctor, and she’d always love him, but there was a wall around his heart. If she told him the truth, he’d never believe her. This Doctor had never believed he deserved love.

But the Doctor was grinning madly at her, his hands reaching out to take hers. “But this is fantastic! We’re _married?_ Is that why you showed up here? Did I call for you without knowing?”

Rose’s mouth was smiling, automatically, in response to the sheer joy he was giving off. But this wasn’t right. She’d never seen this version of the Doctor so happy, so carefree. So ready to accept that he had a happy ending awaiting him.

Her heart sank into her boots. Rose had always known that the Time War had scarred her Doctor beyond repair. But she hadn’t thought…he was so happy, like this. And soon, all that would be taken away from him, hardening him into the warrior she’d met in basement of Henrik’s, years and years ago.

_No more._

Rose jumped. “Did you hear that?”

The Doctor was gazing at her, completely confused. “Hear what?”

It was the strangest thing. It didn’t sound like when the Doctor spoke inside her mind. It didn’t sound like any other person’s voice, actually. It sounded like Rose was talking to herself.

_No more._

The box Rose was sitting on suddenly burned with heat. She jumped up with a cry, staring at it.

“What is that?” she demanded.

She turned to face the Doctor, who took a step backwards, eyes wide with fright.

“It’s just a box! It’s supposed to be a weapon, but I’ve been trying for hours- they must have deactivated it before I could break into the Omega Arsenal and snatch it.”

Rose turned back to the box. She tilted her head, listening.

_No more._

“It’s [singing](https://youtu.be/2PMjCDyUSuo) to me,” she breathed.

“Don’t be daft,” the Doctor snapped back. “If it had a consciousness, it would’ve revealed itself when I-”

“Shut it!”

The singing grew louder.

_He must end it. Only you can lead the way._

_Help him._

As if in a trance, Rose turned the box so she could see the opposite side of it. It was covered in swirling Gallifreyan words and symbols.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the symbols in the upper lefthand corner.

“It’s a bunch of nonsense,” the Doctor insisted. “It’s meant to distract whoever picks it up, make them think they’ve got the wrong thing.”

“What’s it _say_ , Doctor?”

“It really doesn’t make any sense,” the Doctor grumbled. “But that bit there? Bad wolf, it says.”

Rose’s breath caught in her throat.

“I told you it was nonsense,” said the Doctor.

Rose’s mind was filled with the images from earlier. All the suffering and pain caused by the Time War.

She looked down at her hands. They were remarkably steady.

“This isn’t before the War, is it?” she asked. “This _is_ the War. It’s the last day of the Time War.”

“What’d you mean ‘last’?” asked the Doctor.

“This is the day you did it. The day you killed them all.”

She turned to face him. “Isn’t it?”

The Doctor wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I was going to try,” he said, sounding like a child who’d been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “But I couldn’t get it to work. It was a fever dream, really. I just wanted to make it _stop.”_

His voice broke on the last word.

_Help him._

“There’s no way I’m going to do it now,” he added, scratching at the back of his neck. “It was a last-ditch effort. But the thing is obviously defective. And it was a mad idea to begin with.”

He twitched upward, his entire posture straightening as he forced the light back into his eyes. “Listen, now you’re here, we can take the TARDIS and you can tell me how I got around it. You’re from my future, right? I must’ve told you how I managed to save them all.”

Rose met his gaze.

The Doctor chuckled, desperate and manic. “You’re not telling me that I managed to- to _murder_ everyone on the planet, right?”

Rose reached out to take his hands in hers. They were freezing.

“You don’t have a choice, Doctor,” she told him, as gently as she could. “You’ve told me everything, alright. But you had to do it. You couldn’t save them.”

He ripped his hands away.

“No,” he said, his voice getting louder. “That’s not possible. If I had managed that, I would _never_ have let myself survive it.”

The silence hung between them, thick and filled with anguish.

“Isn’t your life worth living for?” Rose tried. “Am I not worth it, Doctor?”

He glared at her with a ferocity she’d never seen directed her way. “I don’t even know who you are.”

Rose flinched. She swallowed, hard.

After a moment, the Doctor’s eyes softened. He stared at her, obviously searching for words, but terribly lost. She knew he was just hurt, and very afraid. He was never cruel. But it stung, nonetheless.

“You will, though,” she choked out. “Do you think I’m lying to you, Doctor?”

“No,” he said immediately. “No, you…I don’t.”

_Help him. Save him._

Rose’s palms grew warm.

“I think I know what’s going on here,” she began, “and I’m going to need you to trust me.”

The Doctor paused, jaw working.

“I don’t trust anyone,” he said, voice terribly raw.

Rose smiled, soft and sad. “You will.”

_Use the power. Show him._

Rose raised her right hand and aimed it at the ceiling above them. Strangely, she didn’t feel afraid. She knew she wasn’t alone.

With a crackling rumble, a yellow portal flashed into existence, identical to the whirling vortex that had opened up in the Under Gallery.

Before either of them could get another word out, the portal spat out a small, bright red object, landing neatly in her outstretched hand.

She threw her head back in a sigh of relief, hugging it to her chest.

“What is _that?”_ asked the Doctor, voice filled with disgust.

Rose laughed, pure and clear. “It’s a fez, Doctor. It means the gateway is still open. I can get back. And I can take you with me.”

She turned toward him, holding out her free hand for him to take. He did, very gingerly.

“What are you?” he asked, and it wasn’t filled with an ounce of anger or fear. He was in awe.

“Depends on who you ask, I guess,” Rose responded. “I’m from London, a council estate. Used to work in a shop. Dropped out of school before I could sit my A-Levels. Looked into the heart of the TARDIS, a while after that, and disintegrated the Dalek Emperor and half a million others with the power it gave me.”

The Doctor stared at her, his face a caricature of shock.

“You shouldn’t have told me that,” he managed eventually.

She shrugged. “Don’t think it can get any worse, to be honest.”

The portal still whirled, waiting to be used.

“Ready?” she asked him.

He nodded, eyes still as wide as saucers.

Rose grinned, slowly, sharp and wolflike. “Geronimo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment below with any thoughts you have! It would make me really happy. More coming very soon!!


	4. Chapter 4

_England, 1562_

The Doctor landed face-first on a dirt floor, branches and twigs sticking him in _extremely_ uncomfortable places. To top it off, he felt just like he did when good old Prince Alfred of Windisch-Grätz had knocked him over the head with the butt of his rifle.

He scrambled to his feet, only to come face to face with…well. His face.

His tenth face was staring at him, bewildered, the Doctor’s fez perched on top of his head.

In times of great distress, the Doctor did what he did best. Talk.

“Oh, that is skinny. That is proper skinny!” he exclaimed. “Weird to see it from the outside again- It’s like a special effect!”

The Doctor leapt forward, snatching his fez off of Pinstripes’s head. Honestly, who could blame him? It didn’t look right on him, not at all.

“Ha!” the Doctor cried, putting it back on his own head in one smooth move. “Matchstick man.”

It only took a second of inspection for the Doctor to see what was going on. Pinstripes’s face was gaunt and sallow. There were deep circles under his eyes, and his hair was as flat and greasy as it had looked in that blasted painting.

This was one part of his life he’d tried very hard to forget. The Doctor knew he never did well on his own.

His tenth face blinked at him, mouth agape in shock. “You’re not…”

The Doctor reached into his coat and pulled out his sonic screwdriver as proof of his identity, wiggling his eyebrows. He knew Rose would’ve rolled her eyes spectacularly at their little competition, trying to see whose was bigger and better. But who could blame him?

“Compensating?” Pinstripes muttered with a sniff, glaring at the Doctor’s superior screwdriver.

“For what?” asked the Doctor, indignant.

His tenth face shrugged. “Regeneration. It’s a lottery.”

The Doctor drew back, incensed. “Oh, he’s cool. Isn’t he cool? I’m the Doctor and I’m all cool! Oops, I’m wearing _sandshoes.”_

Perhaps he was being slightly more antagonistic than the situation warranted. But Rose _loved_ Pinstripes. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t help but be the tiniest bit- and it was a very _small_ bit -jealous.

Blimey, his head ached. It was getting steadily worse with every second, like someone was slowly scooping out his brains without any anesthesia. He hadn’t felt this kind of pain since-

His face fell slack. Since the destruction of Gallifrey. Billions of his people, always there, hovering in the very back corner of his mind- all suddenly gone. It was Rose, this time. He couldn’t reach her.

“What are you doing here?” Pinstripes asked him impatiently. “I’m busy.”

He gestured behind him, and for the first time, the Doctor caught sight of the woman standing there. The two women, actually- completely identical, right down to their outfits.

“Oh, busy, is that what we’re calling it?” the Doctor snarled.

The Doctor took a step toward his other self, but behind him, the time fissure opened up again.

“Your Majesties,” said Pinstripes, “probably a good time to run.”

“No kidding,” the Doctor muttered. If the portal was open again, there was only one person who would be coming through it. And she would have more than a few words to say about Pinstripes’s present choice of company.

“But what about the creature?” asked both of the women in tandem.

“Elizabeth,” Pinstripes said, “whichever one of you is the real one, turn and run in the opposite direction of the other one.”

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow in question.

“One of them’s a Zygon,” his tenth face responded, having the decency to look slightly abashed.

“Oh, brilliant,” the Doctor snapped. “Glad to see your standards have dropped through the floor.”

Pinstripes glared at him, but there was no real anger behind it. He couldn’t even hold the Doctor’s gaze- his eyes kept drifting.

In turn, the two Queens ran up to Pinstripes, snogging the life out of him, their mouths dripping with honey-sweet words like _my darling_ and _my love._

The Doctor felt white-hot anger run through his veins.

After the two Queens had run off, the Doctor got up in Pinstripes’s face, voice quiet and deadly. “You have no idea what you’re doing. You need to get your act together, now, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your lives.”

His last face frowned right back at him. “I’m not judging what you do in the privacy of your own regeneration.”

The Doctor smirked. If Pinstripes had any idea what _he_ was getting up to, he’d melt into a puddle of goo. The Doctor was living out his younger self’s most fervent dream- and here Pinstripes was, throwing it all away.

The Doctor’s last incarnation scoffed, straightening his tie. “What? You’re acting like I’m- I’m cheating on my wife, or something.”

The Doctor’s jaw clenched.

Just as Pinstripes’s eyebrows started to creep up his forehead, a voice sounded from behind them, tinny and far away.

“Doctor, is that you?”

The Doctor took one more moment to glare at his former self before spinning around. “Osgood, yes! Hello! Can you hear me?”

“We can hear you, Doctor. Where are you? Did Rose get to you alright?”

Behind the Doctor, his last incarnation made a harsh, choked noise.

“Where are we?” the Doctor asked him, without turning around.

“We’re- what- I don’t-”

_“Where?”_

“1562. England. But why did she say-”

“England, 1562!” the Doctor called to Osgood. “Did Rose jump in after me, then?”

Pinstripes’s stammering increased substantially. The Doctor tried to tune it out.

“Yes! Is she not there?” replied Osgood nervously. “Can you come back through, maybe see if she got trapped in the middle?”

The Doctor swallowed down his worry. His head still ached like the Dickens. But that didn’t mean anything other than the fact that they were too far away to connect. It certainly didn’t mean…

The Doctor cleared his throat. “Physical passage may not be possible in both directions.”

Pinstripes kept talking, a note of desperation in his voice. “Just _tell_ me what she meant when she said-”

The Doctor thought for a second, and then took off his fez, considering. “Ah, hang on. Fez incoming!”

And with that, the Doctor tossed his fez into the portal.

After a beat, Osgood piped up. “Nothing here, Doctor!”

“So where did it go?” murmured the tenth Doctor, his curiosity overtaking his confusion for a moment.

“Doctor, who’re you talking to?” asked Osgood.

“Myself!” said the Doctor, smiling at his little joke.

Through the portal, the Doctor heard Osgood and Kate talking to each other, too quietly for him to overhear.

The Doctor’s younger self grabbed his shoulder and spun him around so they were facing each other.

Some of that old fire was back in his eyes. His face held a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, hope and anger and betrayal and fierce longing all at once.

“Tell me,” demanded Pinstripes.

“Tell you what?” The Doctor answered, unable to stop himself from grinning.

Pinstripes only looked more furious, as the Doctor knew he would be.

“You stole her back, didn’t you?” he spat at the Doctor. “She could’ve been happy. She could’ve lived a normal life with- with _him,_ with her family, in the other universe, but you had to let your own ego get in the way of-”

The portal made a shuddering, groaning noise. The two of them turned to face it, sonic screwdrivers brandished identically.

Two figures crashed to the ground in front of them. The Doctor almost fell to his knees in relief at the flash of blonde hair, the comforting presence back in his mind.

 _Hello, there,_ he said.

Rose picked her head up. Her hair was a mess, she had dirt smeared on half of her face and dead leaves clinging to her shirt, but she was there, all in one piece, and she was smiling.

Instinctively, the Doctor raced forward, pulled her to her feet, and grabbed her into a fierce hug.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered into her shoulder, body shuddering as he breathed her in. “I never would have gone through if I knew that-”

“Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?” she reprimanded shakily. “It was like-”

“Like you got hit over the head, I know, it was the same for-”

“What were you _thinking,_ leaving me like that? How could you just-”

“I know, I know, you can slap me for being an idiot later, but there’s a bit of a-”

Rose started to pull back. “Oh god, that’s right. Doctor, I ended up on-”

“Rose?”

The voice was so timid and quiet, neither of them recognized it at first.

They pulled apart, still clinging to each other’s arms, and faced the person who’d spoken.

Rose’s eyes widened. Her hands tightened on the Doctor’s arms.

“Hi,” she said, equally quiet. She gave him a bittersweet smile that looked a lot more like a grimace. Her gaze was somewhere around Pinstripes’s collar. Pinstripes, though, he was staring fiercely at her, eyes roaming up and down her body like a starving man being shown the first morsel of food he’d seen in weeks.

Rose fidgeted, fixing her hair and brushing the debris off her clothes. She forced a laugh. “Guess it’s your day, huh? Should’ve known there’d be three of you.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyebrows. “Three? What do you mean?”

Someone cleared their throat on the other side of the clearing. The Doctor turned to see-

“Oh, bugger,” the Doctor muttered. “Really?”

Beady blue eyes met his, unflinching. “You done? Ready to tell me what the hell is going on here?”

Rose spoke up. “Doctor.”

All three sets of eyes turned to her.

She straightened her shoulders, obviously uncomfortable under all the attention.

“This is him,” Rose said to Leather Jacket, gesturing at the Doctor. “My Doctor. The other one- I knew him, too, but he’s not with me now.”

Leather Jacket quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re _kidding_ me. You're both me? Skinny over there I can see, but this one? He’s twelve years old!”

“Oi!” snapped the Doctor.

“There’s no bloody way I turn into a teenage giraffe.”

“Can’t say I understand it either,” muttered Pinstripes.

“Hey!”

Rose arranged her face into a neutral expression, but not before the Doctor had caught the hints of a smile on her lips. Worse still, he was getting waves of amusement from their bond.

He couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt. He knew that Rose would always have a soft spot for Leather over there, and Pinstripes was the one she had fallen in love with- but she liked him like this, didn’t she? He knew he looked a little silly, but surely it wasn’t _that_ bad…right?

Rose twitched toward him, squeezing his hand in reassurance. _Sorry._

“Blimey, this is going to take some sorting,” the Doctor muttered.

He stepped away from Rose and clapped his hands together. “Alright! We’ve all-”

“Encircle them!” cried a voice from far off. Dozens of footsteps sounded against the forest floor, getting closer and closer.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by a group of a dozen Elizabethan guards. The Doctor and his most recent incarnation sprang into action, brandishing their sonic screwdrivers at the soldiers. The Doctor turned in a circle, keeping an eye on each of the soldiers pointing extremely pointy spears at their group. He turned in time to see the ninth Doctor make eye contact with Rose, quirking an eyebrow, as if to say, _You married this idiot?_

Rose suppressed another grin.

“Which of you is the Doctor?” demanded the lead soldier. “The Queen of England is bewitched. I would have the Doctor’s head.”

The leather-clad Doctor barked out a laugh. “Lad, you’re in the right place, I can tell you that.”

Osgood’s voice echoed from the portal. “I think there’s three of them, now.”

“Ah,” responded Kate. “There’s a precedent for that.”

The lead soldier turned at the sound, suddenly noticing the giant yellow time fissure still swirling in the middle of the clearing.

“What is that?” the soldier demanded, brandishing his spear at the four of them. “What witchcraft is it?”

Right, sixteenth century, a very real fear of magical ladies showing up at your house and zapping you out of existence.

“Ah, yes,” the Doctor interjected, jumping forward. “Now that you mention it, that is witchcraft.”

He saw Rose standing next to him out of the corner of his eye, ready to help in any way she could.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he added, rubbing his hands together, mind racing. “Witchy witchcraft.”

The Doctor cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted into the portal. “Hello? Hello in there? Am I speaking with the wicked witch of the well?”

“He means you,” came Kate’s voice through the portal.

“Why am I the witch?” muttered Osgood. Beside the Doctor, Rose stiffened.

“Osgood?” the Doctor called.

“Hello?” came Osgood’s tentative voice.

“Osgood, hi, hello!” The Doctor cleared his throat. “Would you mind telling these… _prattling mortals_ to get themselves _begone?”_

“Er…” said Osgood. “What he said!”

“Give it a bit more colour?” Rose suggested.

“Right, yes,” said Osgood, voice flat, like she was reading from a teleprompter. “Er- prattling mortals, off you…pop. Or I’ll…turn you all into frogs.”

Despite the rather lackluster performance on Osgood’s part, the soldiers all flinched.

“Ooo, frogs!” exclaimed the Doctor. “Nice, you heard her.”

“Doctor, Rose,” Osgood asked, tentative, “what’s going on?”

The Doctor shrugged, leaning his whole body to one side. “It’s a timey-wimey thing.”

“It’s a _what?”_ asked the leather-clad Doctor, incredulous.

Pinstripes sniffed. “I’ve- I’ve no idea where he picks that stuff up.”

Queen Elizabeth- _one_ of the Elizabeths, mind -strode into the clearing, sending all the soldiers to one knee.

“You don’t seem to be kneeling,” said Elizabeth, imperiously. “How tremendously brave of you.”

Rose placed her hands on her hips. “Yeah, right, like I’m going to get on the floor for a-”

“Which one are you?” the Doctor frantically interrupted. “What happened to the other one?”

 _There’s two Queen Elizabeths. One of them’s a Zygon,_ he told Rose. _Pinstripes over there, he’s got a detector, but I think he’s wrecked it. No way to know if this is the human one, or if it’s the shapeshifting one that’s really a big red rubbery thing covered in suckers._

 _Oh, wonderful,_ responded Rose, dryly.

“She is indisposed,” said the Queen, still smiling blithely. “Long live the Queen.”

“Long live the Queen!” echoed the guards, still kneeling.

“Arrest them,” the Queen said. “Take them to the Tower.”

“That is not the Queen of England!” cried Pinstripes. “That’s an alien duplicate!”

“And you can take it from him,” Rose snapped, “cos he’s _really_ checked.”

Venom sacs in the tongue, Zygons had, the Doctor remembered with a shiver. He was glad he had absolutely no memory of this. It was strange- he was torn between being furious at Pinstripes and furious at himself. With Pinstripes standing there like that, it was getting increasingly difficult to remember that they were the same person. Every mistake he wanted to throttle Pinstripes for committing, he had done all those himself.

Pinstripes, who’d been standing tall and firm, righteous anger filling out his limbs, suddenly deflated. His pointing arm dropped to his side, lifeless.

He stared intently at Rose, eyes filled with sorrow and shame. “Rose…”

Scrambling for something to break the tension, the Doctor landed on an idea. “Did you say the Tower? Ah, yes, brilliant.”

 _The Tower is Kate’s office,_ the Doctor told Rose. _I’ll leave her a message once we’re up there, and then her and Osgood can send backup._

A wave of relief came from Rose. _Thank God you’ve got a plan. Not sure how much more of this I can take._

“Love the Tower. Breakfast at eight, please,” the Doctor continued. “Will there be Wi-Fi?”

“Are you ever going to stop waving your hands around like an idiot?” Leather Jacket demanded.

“Yes,” the Doctor said, mid hand-wave. “No.”

He whirled around and addressed the Queen. “I demand to be incarcerated in the Tower immediately with my co-conspirators Sandshoes, Blondie, and Big Ears.”

“They’re not sandshoes,” his tenth incarnation muttered.

“You can talk, with that chin,” the ninth snapped, at the same time.

“Silence,” cried the Queen, her warbling voice starting to get on the Doctor’s nerves. “The Tower is not to be taken lightly. Very few emerge again.”

As they started to be led away, the Doctor heard Kate through the portal: “Dear God, that man’s clever. Come on.”

With his arms being roughly restrained by guards, in the face of an alien invasion and a time stream anomaly so disastrous it could rip the universe apart, the Doctor grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! What did you think? Write a comment below with anything you'd like to say- your feedback is like 99% of my motivation to keep writing!


	5. Chapter 5

Each of them had two guards for escorts, holding their arms so they couldn’t get away. Not that the Doctor would’ve tried to escape, anyway.

As they neared the Tower’s steps, the Queen held up a hand.

The guards paused, waiting for instructions.

“Take the men to the Tower,” said the Queen, glancing at Rose. “The girl stays with me.”

“No!” shouted Pinstripes.

The Doctor tried to step towards Rose, instinctively. The guards held firm.

“Hey, wait,” he began, voice unsteady, “there’s no need for that. Don’t you want all your co-conspirators in one place? Much easier to keep track of, that way, and I’m speaking from experience.”

“Rose,” said Leather Jacket, surprisingly, “why don’t you go with her Majesty?”

The Doctor and Pinstripes immediately started protesting. The leather-clad Doctor talked over them.

“I’m sure you’ll get along great. And if you need to, you could give her a _hand,”_ said Leather pointedly. “I’m sure she’d like that.”

Rose’s eyes widened in recognition.

Pinstripes spoke up, voice full of anguish. “Rose, you can’t-”

Rose ignored him, locking eyes with the Doctor. “I’ll go.”

 _I’ll explain later,_ she said. _I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. And even just on my own, you really don’t think I could take her? Look how many skirts she’s wearing!_

The Doctor nodded shakily. “Alright.” _Zygons are terrified of fire, if it comes to that. Please be careful. I know that’s rubbish, coming from me, but please._

Rose grinned back. _If she wanted me dead, I’d be dead already, wouldn’t I?_

_Clever girl._

The guards pushed them forward. The Doctor got one more glimpse of Rose’s smile slipping off her face before he was shoved into darkness.

* * *

“Come on, you lot, get in there,” said one of the guards, gruffly. He shoved at the ninth Doctor’s shoulder, barely getting him to move an inch. The leather-clad Time Lord raised a single eyebrow at him in challenge.

The Doctor couldn’t help but smile. He’d almost forgotten what he used to be like.

Rose was still there, present and strong in the back of his mind. She was distracted, but alright.

Once the guard had herded them all into their cell and slammed the door, Pinstripes rounded on the Doctor, furious. “How could you just let them take her? She’s defenseless!”

Leather Jacket barked out a laugh. “Are we talking about the same woman?”

The Doctor met Pinstripes’s eyes steadily, as if to say, _Are we?_

Pinstripes huffed a few times, indignant. But then it was like someone’d cut his strings- he fell to the ground, back up against the wall and his head in his hands.

The Doctor scanned the floor until he’d found what he needed. He picked up a long piece of metal, flicking it and grinning at the _ding_ it made. The end was sharp enough for his purposes. He strode across the room to the far wall and got to work, scratching away.

“Timey-wimey,” Leather Jacket murmured, after a few moments. It sounded strange coming from his mouth. “Do you have to talk like children? What makes you so ashamed of being a grown-up?”

The other two stared at him.

There was something so strange about Big Ears. The Doctor remembered being him- remembered the swirling hatred and rage that had eaten away at his soul. But this man looked…almost happy. Was he pulled from right after he met Rose?

“Three of us in one cell,” remarked the Doctor. “That’s going to cause some nasty anomalies if we don’t get out soon.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?” snapped the tenth. “How can you care about anomalies when Rose is-”

At that, Pinstripes took a deep, rattling breath, and fell silent.

The Doctor continued his work, scratching away at the wall. He’d had the vortex manipulator’s activation code memorized ever since Jack stepped on board the TARDIS. _1…7…_

“What’re you doing?” Leather Jacket asked, curious.

“Getting us out,” said the Doctor simply.

In a sudden flurry of movement, Pinstripes scrambled to his feet, whipping out his sonic screwdriver to scan the door.

“Are you daft?” Leather Jacket demanded. “The sonic won’t work on that, it’s too primitive.”

“What if I triggered an isolated sonic shift among the molecules and disintegrated the door?”

Leather Jacket chuckled dryly. “You want to spend the next half-dozen centuries calculating the exact harmonic resonance of the entire structure down to a sub-atomic level, you go right ahead. I think I’d wait for the door to rot, first.”

Pinstripes sighed, lowering his arm. “Worth a try.”

Moments passed in silence, the only sound coming from the Doctor’s tool as he continued to scratch at the stone and mortar.

“Since we’re locked in here together,” Leather Jacket began, “why don’t you tell me how you ended the Time War?”

The Doctor paused in his scratching, but only for a moment. With a blink and a deep breath, he was back at it. _16…2…_

Pinstripes sounded like he’d been shot.

“What- what are you talking about?” he wheezed. “You know Rose, you’re from _after_ the Time War.”

“Just met her about twenty minutes ago, now,” replied Leather Jacket, cheerfully. “And where I come from, the War’s still on in full force. Not seeing any options other than the destruction of the entire planet, so I’m going to need some pointers.”

A wave of grief washed over the Doctor. He closed his eyes and let it run its course.

The Doctor stopped in his work and turned to face his youngest self. “No, you don’t. You know what you need to do. You have from the start.”

The Doctor in his leather jacket looked, outwardly, far older than the other two. But he was so, so much younger. 

The grin slipped off the ninth Doctor’s face, slowly replaced by a look of horror.

“How can you live with yourselves?” he hissed.

“I don’t,” said Pinstripes. He looked very, very tired. “I spend as much time _not_ living with myself as possible. Find as many others as I can. They all leave me, in the end.”

Pinstripes glared at the Doctor. “Or they should, if they know what’s good for them.”

The Doctor met his gaze, calm and unyielding.

Pinstripes sniffed, straightening up and blinking, hard. “I live for everyone else. Everyone I can still save.”

“Oh, and that makes it all better, does it?” sneered Big Ears. “All your debts paid for, I suppose. You think you’ll _ever_ be able to make up for that? For double genocide? How many children did you murder on Gallifrey that day?”

As he scratched the number 3 into the wall, the Doctor remembered the night he’d sat down and counted. He’d shattered all the mirrors in the TARDIS, as he couldn’t stand the sight of his own reflection. He’d gone through backlogs and salvaged records and census data until his eyes burned. He knew exactly how many children he’d murdered. He knew all of their faces.

“I’ve absolutely no idea,” the Doctor lied.

“How old are you now?” Leather Jacket demanded.

He was 1236. It had been 298 years since he lost Rose for the first time, 296 since he gave her up by choice, and three years, six months, seven days, ten hours, and two minutes since he’d gotten her back again.

The Doctor started scratching the _11_ with quite a bit of force. “Ah, I don’t know. I lose track. 1200 and something, I think, unless I’m lying. I can’t remember if I’m lying about my age, that’s how old I am.”

Leather Jacket continued, his voice still filled with the same amount of bluster. “What the hell have you been doing for four hundred years? Underwater basket weaving? You’re telling me you never even _thought_ about how many children you killed? You’re telling me you never once counted?”

The Doctor turned to face him, deathly slow.

“Tell me,” he said quietly. “What would be the point?”

The tenth Doctor spoke up.

“2.47 billion,” he spat.

Pinstripes turned to the Doctor, shoving at his chest. “You _forgot?_ You’re with Rose, and you’ve become the kind of person who _forgets_ that? How could you be so selfish? How could you string her along like that, make her think you love her, when you’ve rotted to the core? What have you turned into, that you could forget how many children you slaughtered that day?”

The Doctor burst out laughing.

He doubled over, clutching his stomach, nearly dropping his metal stick.

“Oh, is something funny?” sneered Pinstripes. “Did I miss a funny thing?”

“Sorry,” the Doctor said, trying and failing to smother his manic smile. “It just occurred to me- this is what I’m like when I’m alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment below with any thoughts you might have! Next up: Rose, the Queen, Osgood, and quite a lot of Zygons.


	6. Chapter 6

After the Doctors had been dragged off, Rose stared at the space where her husband used to be.

Three of them in one room. Either they’d get along famously, or they’d tear each other to shreds. The evidence so far pointed much more strongly to the latter option.

Beside her, the Queen turned and walked off. Without a word, the guards holding Rose’s arms pulled her along to follow.

“Oi!” Rose exclaimed, her feet dragging on the dirt floor. “I can walk by myself, thanks! What d’you think I’m going to do, anyway? Your lot’s armed to the teeth, and I’m just one girl!”

The guards exchanged a glance. Reluctantly, they let go of her arms, spears still at the ready.

Rose grinned. God, men were idiots.

“Come on, then!” she said, following after the Queen at a brisk pace.

If she had learned one thing from the Doctor, it was this: when you were cornered, you needed to take control of the situation. The Doctor had always done that by running his massive gob, no matter what body he was in. Rose had seen him do it countless times. She could do it, too- she just couldn’t lose her cool. She never liked it when the Doctor hid his emotions behind a mask, except for when it worked beautifully. Rose knew if she showed any vulnerability, it was over.

Rose followed the Queen to another part of the massive tower, heading down a set of stairs.

Once inside, the guards dispersed. Rose followed the Queen down into what must’ve been another dungeon, this one filled with aliens. Rose stifled a scream. She had gotten a glimpse of them from the Doctor’s memories, but there was something to be said for the in-person experience. They were like seven-foot tall boot prints, but slimy and red and studded in suckers like an octopus.

“So!” Rose exclaimed, sticking her hands in her pockets. “Queen of the Zygons, eh? Not much of an improvement over the UK, I don’t think. Why haven’t you killed us all? It wouldn’t be hard, I’m sure you’ve got lots of exciting ways to make your victims die a horrible death.”

The Queen’s lips thinned. “Impertinence, coming from a woman found half-naked in the company of three men.”

Rose pouted. “That’s not very nice. This is my favorite jumper.”

The two women reached a railing and stopped walking, gazing down at the creatures manipulating strange, red-tinted technology below.

"What d'you lot want, anyway?"

“The Zygons lost their home world,” the Queen said. “It burnt in the first days of the Time War. A new home is required."

It was so hard to remember that this wasn’t the real Queen. She seemed so human, especially in the face of the other Zygons in their natural form.

“So you want the Earth?” Rose asked.

The Queen tsked. “Not yet. It’s far too primitive. Zygons are used to a certain level of comfort."

“Commander,” hissed a voice. Rose jumped. One of the Zygons was standing right next to them, addressing the Queen. Elizabeth looked like she was in her element- well, she would, right? She was one of them.

“Why is this creature here?” The Zygon rasped, gesturing to Rose.

“Because I say she should be,” the Queen responded calmly. “It is time you too were translated.”

At that, the Zygon stepped forward and grabbed hold of the glass cube sitting on a pedestal in front of them. In a flash, the Zygon was gone- and the familiarly blank painting across the room now housed a single figure.

“The Zygons will stay in stasis, hidden away inside the paintings, until the Earth is up to standard. Then, they will emerge, and conquer the planet.”

Rose nodded, digesting the information. “So they’re not even doing anything, now? They’re just waiting around for a few hundred years?”

“Precisely.”

Rose felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She turned to see all the attention directed at her. One after the other, the Zygons on the floor below them had turned upwards, all looking at Rose. Rose had a nagging feeling that they could smell her humanity, even from that far off.

She glared down at them. The world seemed lit by a bright light, for a second, but it faded before Rose could figure out where it was coming from.

Beside her, the Queen gasped in shock. “What did you _do?”_

Rose turned, confused. “What d’you mean?”

She turned back to the Zygons down below. They weren’t just staring up at her, trying to be intimidating. They were _frozen._ A faint yellow light outlined each creature’s body. Even the computers had stopped beeping and flashing.

“Er…” Rose had no idea what she’d done. She’d only been able to open the portal back on Gallifrey because of the power that box gave to her. She didn’t feel any different. She hadn’t even been trying to do anything.

Rose forced herself to turn back to the Queen, chin held high.

“Didn’t want them to overhear, that’s all,” Rose bluffed. “Now we can have a nice conversation, all friend-like.”

Wide-eyed, the Queen nodded in acquiescence.

“If you’re the Zygon commander, why’d you just tell me your whole plan? That’s a bit counterproductive, if you ask me.”

“You are an associate of the Doctor,” the Queen began, strangely hesitant. “He trusts you?”

Rose laughed, forcing confidence. “More than his associate, mate.” She got right up in the Queen’s face and wiggled her left hand, showing off her wedding ring. “I’m his wife.”

For some reason, the Queen blushed scarlet. _“What?”_

Rose quirked an eyebrow. “What d’you care, you’re a shapeshifting alien pretending to be the bloody Queen!”

“I _am_ the Queen,” she hissed. “The human Queen, of the house of Tudor, ruler of England and Ireland, Defender of the Faith. And your husband has quite a lot to answer for.”

Rose stopped. “You mean-”

_“Yes.”_

Rose’s brain short-circuited for a moment.

“My twin is dead in the forest.” Queen Elizabeth flicked up her skirts with surprising irreverence and plucked a wicked looking dagger out of her garter. “I am accustomed to taking precautions.”

Rose whistled in appreciation.

“Hang on. How’d you know all that about the Time War, then?”

The Queen shrugged. “These creatures love to brag and complain about the injustices committed against them. They never even considered that it was me who survived, rather than their own commander. The arrogance that typifies their kind.”

“Zygons?”

Queen Elizabeth scoffed. _“Men.”_

Rose nodded in agreement. “Nice job.”

The Queen inclined her head. “I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but at the time, so did the Zygon.”

Rose frowned. “Nothing wrong with being a woman. I know in the here and now everyone thinks men are, like, the masters of the Earth, or something, but you seem to have done pretty well for yourself. I bet even if you’d been fighting a full-grown man, you’d’ve stabbed him right in his heart before he could lay a finger on you.”

Queen Elizabeth grinned, then, the expression strangely childlike on her regal face. “Speculation is an exercise in futility. But yes. I rather think so, too.”

At that, Rose felt the remnants of her anger drain away. In another life, Rose could see herself getting a drink with this woman. She was brave, and protective, and seemed rather nice, too. It wasn’t her fault that she’d run into the Doctor at a time when he was looking to move on from Rose. How could Rose stand here and blame the Queen for falling in love with the Doctor almost immediately, when that’s exactly what _she_ did?

Below them, Rose noticed the Zygons starting to move again. Strangely, none of them seemed bothered by her presence anymore.

“You think we could stage a prison break?” Rose suggested.

The Queen looked mildly troubled. “I only had the men placed in the Tower to gain the Zygons’ trust. The warden is one of my personal guards, and I instructed him to leave the door unlocked. They must have escaped by now.”

The fact that no one had come bursting into this room was all the proof Rose needed: they definitely had not.

“Oh, no,” Rose sighed. “The Doctor’s really clever, but sometimes…let’s say he can be a bit shortsighted.”

With only himself to talk to, the Doctor was probably planning some mad idea like blowing up the wall by rigging a contraption with a dozen sticks and a rock. Rose would bet her savings that none of them had even thought to try the door.

Rose reached out to the Doctor mentally, and frowned. He was there, alright, but he seemed much farther away than their physical distance warranted. She couldn’t even grasp snatches of his emotions.

Her heart sank. The Doctor didn’t bother with shielding very often. If he was keeping her out now- and there was no mistaking this as anything but a deliberate choice -he had to be in a serious amount of pain.

“Right,” said Rose. “I’m off to drag the Doctor out of prison by his ears. You comin’?”

The Queen shook her head, a blush high on her cheeks. “These creatures pose no threat to me. They still believe that I am their commander, and soon they will all be locked away. I will stay here and oversee the Zygons as they translate themselves into the paintings. I will make sure to lock them in the bowels of my collection, so that they may dealt with by the Doctor when he travels to the future in his magical box. I believe I am correct in assuming no technology available in the present will be able to slay these creatures without significant loss of life.”

“Sounds like a plan, your Majesty,” Rose said with a grin.

Just as she was turning to leave, Rose thought of something. The Doctor had told her a story, once, on a long afternoon in the TARDIS library, her head in his lap as he combed through her hair with his fingers. He’d said that there was a thing called the Bootstrap Paradox- went off on this whole tangent about Beethoven, but Rose had gotten the gist.

The Queen had a letter to leave for the Doctor. But now that Rose’d gone and told her they were married, Elizabeth certainly wasn’t going to be writing to him, calling him _her_ husband. Rose had that letter, stuffed in her pocket. It needed to be written, so that everything would happen the way it already had. The Queen needed to write that letter- but there were no rules saying she had to come up with it all on her own.

If Rose hadn't been here, the Doctor would've married this woman. Maybe that's the way it originally went. Rose forced herself to stop thinking about it.

“And one more thing!” Rose pulled the yellowed letter out and handed it to the Queen. “You think you could copy this out, leave it for the Doctor to find? I know you probably hate his guts now, but it’s important, I promise.”

The Queen scanned the letter distastefully. “This appears to be my handwriting, but the language is atrocious. Why would you have me do this?”

“You want to protect your kingdom, right?”

The Queen nodded, hesitantly.

“Then you’ve got to leave a copy of that letter for the Doctor to find. Those exact words. Only way he’s going to know he has to help.”

Rose couldn't put her finger on it, but something in her was telling her this was the right decision. It was like she could almost picture the way events were going to play out, like a bunch of different train tracks going in different directions. By telling the Queen to copy out the letter, Rose had a gut feeling that everything was headed in the direction it was meant to go. 

That was odd. Usually she needed the Doctor to remind her about all this stuff, paradoxes and consequences and whatnot. Rose shook herself. Must've been that she was getting good at this, that's all. She'd just developed some good instincts.

The Queen glared at her. While she seemed angry, she also seemed convinced. Rose guessed that after seeing all the things this woman had seen in a day, nothing could be surprising anymore.

“Under one condition,” said Elizabeth.

“Sure, what?”

“Let your husband know,” the Queen said, her eyes bright with anger, “that if he ever shows his face in my presence again, that day will be his last.”

That was hardly the first time Rose’d heard that. It wasn’t a real adventure, she thought, without someone threatening to kill one of them.

As she headed back outside, Rose tried once more to connect with her husband.

 _Everything’s sorted with the Queen,_ Rose tried to force through to the Doctor, not knowing if her words were reaching him at all. _Don’t panic. I’m coming to break you idiots out of prison._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Osgood is up next! Tell me, do you think I did Rose, the Queen, and the storyline justice? Any comments you might leave would make me really happy <3
> 
> The Shakespeare Code, S3E2:
> 
> DOCTOR: Queen Elizabeth the First!  
> ELIZABETH: Doctor?  
> DOCTOR: What?  
> ELIZABETH: My sworn enemy.  
> DOCTOR: What?  
> ELIZABETH: Off with his head!  
> DOCTOR: What?  
> MARTHA: Never mind what, just run! See you, Will, and thanks.  
> ELIZABETH: Stop that pernicious Doctor.  
> (Shakespeare laughs as the pikemen chase the Doctor and Martha out and into the streets of Southwark.)
> 
> PIKEMAN: Stop in the name of the Queen!  
> MARTHA: What have you done to upset her?  
> DOCTOR: How should I know? Haven't even met her yet. That's time travel for you. Still, can't wait to find out.  
> (They get to the TARDIS and he lets Martha in.)  
> DOCTOR: That's something to look forward to. Ooo!  
> (The Doctor gets inside and shuts the door as an arrow thuds into it, just like in Silver Nemesis.)


	7. Chapter 7

Osgood dashed out of the Under Gallery, slamming the huge door concealed as a painting behind her.

Above her head, one of the monsters that had grabbed McGillop smashed right through the wood, the wreckage of Elizabeth the First’s face flying two inches from her head.

Osgood ran to the lift- why had they made this room so _small_ -only to find the doors firmly shut. Frantically, she pressed the button to open them, but nothing happened.

She could hear snarling behind her. Osgood turned, slowly, unable to get a solid breath in her lungs. There it was, seven feet tall, bright red, sharp teeth bared as its mouth dripped with acid. Osgood took a puff from her inhaler, screwing her eyes shut, her back against a corner of the wall. She’d spent weeks poring over the files on the Doctor’s adventures throughout the years, and she’d seen him get his companions out of much worse situations than this one.

“The Doctor will save me,” she gasped, sliding down the wall, arms curving around her head in a useless attempt at protection. “The Doctor will save me, the Doctor will save me, the Doctor will save me…”

“Excuse me,” came her own voice, cold and patronizing. “I’m going to need my inhaler.”

Osgood stared up in horror at her own face. She was an identical copy, right down to the scarf modeled after the one belonging to the Doctor’s fourth incarnation.

Osgood’s alien double rolled her eyes. “I so hate it when I get one with a defect.”

The alien reached down and forcefully grabbed Osgood’s inhaler right from her stiff, unmoving hands.

“Ooo,” sneered the alien, “you’ve got some perfectly horrible memories in here, haven’t you?”

Osgood’s double pouted in mock sympathy, taking a puff from Osgood’s inhaler. “So jealous of your pretty sister. I don’t blame you. I wish I’d copied _her.”_

If Osgood hadn’t been so terrified, she would have laughed. This alien was just another bully, so preoccupied with finding ways to hurt Osgood that she hadn’t noticed what was really going on. If the alien had been just a little more observant and a little less cruel for cruelty’s sake, she never would’ve stepped right on the end of Osgood’s scarf.

“So do I!” Osgood exclaimed, ripping her scarf out from under the double’s foot and sending her crashing to the ground.

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Osgood heard echoing behind her. Osgood hopped over the creature’s body, threw open the doors to the stairwell, and raced upwards as fast as her legs could carry her.

She tore her phone out of her pocket, dialing up security. “Secure the Under Gallery- no one gets in or out. Priority Double-Black Ultra. Yes, of course it's Kate Stewart's orders. Would I lie to you?”

* * *

If Osgood were trying to take over the Earth, there were a few things she would do- one of them would be to infiltrate UNIT. Good job, aliens.

If the aliens could take humans’ forms, there was no telling who they could be impersonating right now. If their goal was indeed to take over the Earth- which seemed likely, going off the nasty demeanor of the creatures she’d seen so far -they would need to take the form of someone with much higher clearance than Osgood had.

As she staggered toward the way out of the National Gallery, Osgood passed through an empty hallway, dimly lit. She pulled her torch out of her coat pocket, inching forward slowly, muscles tensed.

A low groan sounded from Osgood’s left, making her jump.

A huge, hulking figure stood there, covered haphazardly in a white sheet. Long, veiny, red ropes connected the figure to the wall on either side.

Could this be a human? When the Zygons were masquerading as statues, their disguises were much less suspicious than this. If not for the Doctor’s thinking, Osgood might never have figured out what was going on.

Her instincts screaming at her to run away, Osgood ripped the sheet off, revealing a humanoid covered in pulsing, boil-covered red masses.

Wait a minute- she knew that blazer. Kate’d had her run to the dry cleaners to pick it up just last week.

“Kate?” she asked.

The figure covered in alien matter groaned again.

Groaning was good- groaning meant she was alive!

“Oh goodness, you’re not actually dead!” Osgood exclaimed, pulling the alien gunk off of Kate as quickly as she dared. “Oh that’s tremendous news. Those creatures, they turn themselves into copies. And they need to keep the original alive, I suppose, refresh the image, so to speak.”

“Where-” Kate rasped, “Where did they go?”

“I don’t know.” Osgood stopped. She did know- they were heading for the Tower, which most likely meant infiltrating the Black Archive. If the alien creatures got a hold of even one piece of technology from that room, they might have just lost control of the planet.

Osgood’s blood ran cold. She knew quite a bit about the Black Archive. If those creatures wanted to take over the Earth, they were most likely not going to do anything to damage it. Kate, on the other hand…

Only Kate could detonate the nuclear warhead sitting underneath the Tower. Osgood knew that they couldn’t let an invasive alien force get a hold of any of the technology in the Black Archive. But the Doctor would never agree to blowing up London to avoid that. He’d waltz into that room and come up with a plan that ended with London still very much intact. Osgood believed in the Doctor- it was the only thing that sustained her, sometimes. If she could get to the Doctor, he would solve all of this. Kate didn’t need to be involved.

“Actually,” Osgood began, fidgeting, “I think they were headed to the bowels of the Under Gallery. I overheard them saying something about freeing the rest of their people from more paintings- you should probably go there, confront them.”

Kate disentangled herself from the last of the alien tendrils, eyeing Osgood suspiciously. _“I_ should go? What about you?”

“The Doctor’s told me to do something else,” Osgood lied. “I’ve got to go to the Black Archive, he needs my help, there.”

Kate narrowed her eyebrows. “And he called for you, specifically?”

Osgood stiffened. “Yes. Yes, he did. Guess he liked my scarf.”

Kate was still eyeing her warily, but she seemed convinced.

“Right,” Kate nodded. “I’ll call a few of the grunts, contain the creatures in the Under Gallery before they can cause any more damage.”

Osgood ran off before Kate could change her mind.

* * *

As far as Osgood knew, there was no way to tell who was human and who was a shape-shifting alien. If she was lucky, the aliens themselves might not be able to tell, either.

Osgood raced to the street outside the National Gallery, pulling out her phone with shaking fingers.

“Jenkinson!” she exclaimed, when the call connected. “I’m going to need a car. Yes, immediately, from the National Gallery to the Tower of London. Kate Stewart’s orders.”

“And Jenkinson,” she added, “this is the last car you should send. To anyone. Even if I personally call you up and ask for another one, do _not_ give it to me unless I say… _‘[arca caerulea](https://translate.google.com/?ui=tob&sl=la&tl=en&text=arca%20caerulea&op=translate),’ _you got that?”

“Yes ma’am,” responded Jenkinson, used to extremely bizarre instructions.

* * *

As Osgood neared the Black Archive, she forced herself to slow her pace. She arranged her face in a blank expression and walked purposefully.

She handed her key to Atkins at the door.

“Ma’am,” he greeted.

He went to open the door, chattering away. “Wasn’t expecting my first day to be this busy, ma’am.”

Osgood eyed the memory filters on the ceiling warily.

Osgood stepped through, keeping an eye out for anyone standing amongst the high-stacked shelves.

She heard a massive, exasperated sigh echo from somewhere ahead of her.

“We’re looking for a string of numerals,” came Kate’s voice. “From around 1550, most likely embedded in the wall of the Tower.”

Osgood spotted McGillop on her left. He nodded to her, slowly.

She repressed a shiver. That was definitely not McGillop.

Osgood kept her expression neutral. Her fingers itched to fidget and play with the hem of her scarf.

“The Under Gallery is secured,” said not-McGillop.

Not-Kate came into view, opening the door to the container holding Captain Jack Harkness’s vortex manipulator. She frowned, putting her phone back to her ear. “If you’ve found the activation code, photograph it and send it to my phone!”

If the aliens wanted the vortex manipulator, Osgood had to keep it away from them. Where did the Doctor say he was, again? England, 1562? And they had mentioned the Tower of London, so she didn’t even have to travel physical distance. If she got the month a bit wrong, she could just set the vortex manipulator to track his artron energy signature. Easy peasy.

If she could tell the Doctor what was going on, he’d sort it all. He’d save them. He always had.

Osgood started forward, getting as close to not-Kate as she dared.

“I see we’ve acquired the device,” Osgood improvised. “Brilliant.”

Not-Kate looked at her suspiciously, but said nothing. Not-Kate opened her text messages, pulling up a photograph of an old stone wall, covered in scratches.

Osgood peered at it as covertly as she could, quickly memorizing the numbers.

Moving slowly, like she was trying not to spook a stray cat, Osgood grabbed hold of the vortex manipulator.

Not-Kate let out an inhuman, rasping hiss. “Give it here.”

Quick as a flash, Osgood strapped it to her wrist and punched in the numbers from Kate’s phone.

She met not-Kate’s gaze head on, a faint smile on her lips, knowing there was no use in pretending any longer. “Activation code, right?”

Not-Kate’s jaw widened far beyond the capacity of a human’s. The last thing Osgood saw was a dripping maw filled with rows of sharp teeth moving toward her face before the world went white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving, to those celebrating- to everyone else, I hope you have a wonderful day! <3


	8. Chapter 8

Leather Jacket pulled out his sonic screwdriver, studying it intently.

He raised his gaze, staring at each Doctor in turn. “I don’t know if I believe half the mad things that’ve come out of your mouths. But if you’re really me, I think your daft plan might actually work.”

Pinstripes raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Leather Jacket stood, scanning the wooden door with his sonic. “If I set the calculation to disintegrate the door as a permanent subroutine in the software architecture, and your screwdriver really is mine from the future, then that calculation is still going on.”

Pinstripes inspected his screwdriver, eyes lighting up with some of that old glee. “Yeah, still going!”

The Doctor whipped out his own sonic screwdriver. Sure enough, there it was. “Calculation complete.”

The Doctor grinned. “Hey, four hundred years in four seconds!”

He slipped his screwdriver back into his breast pocket and snapped his fingers, pointing at both of his former selves. “We may have had our differences, which is frankly odd under the circumstances, but I tell you what, boys- we are _incredibly_ clever.”

The door burst open, and there was Rose, glancing at all three of them.

The Doctor stared at his wife with wide eyes, mouth agape. “How…How did you do that?”

“It wasn’t locked,” Rose responded, sliding her tongue between her teeth. “Still think you’re incredibly clever, then?”

Rose and the Doctor locked eyes. After a second, both of them dissolved into giggles.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw Pinstripes watching the two of them, a hard to decipher expression on his face- like people were talking over him, and no matter how loudly he screamed, no one would hear him. The Doctor tuned it out.

“Oh god, wait,” Rose laughed, trying to compose herself. “Doctor, we’ve got to go back to the Gallery. Everything’s fine, here- the Queen’s human, and the Zygons are, sort of, transferring themselves into those paintings, right? They’re going to be frozen there until the world’s worth taking over, like-”

“Stasis cubes,” interrupted Leather Jacket.

“Or suspended animation,” breathed Pinstripes.

“Or cup-a-soups!” exclaimed the Doctor. “Except you add time, if you can picture that.”

The Doctor frowned. “Nobody can picture that. Forget I said cup-a-soups.”

“How do you know Elizabeth’s human?” inquired the tenth Doctor.

Rose laughed. “Trust me, she is. You don’t want to mess with her, I’ll tell you that. She’s got a knife stuck up her skirt. Cut the Zygon’s throat, she did."

Pinstripes narrowed his gaze at Rose. “And how’d you get her to tell you that?”

Rose bit her lip, looking slightly abashed. The Doctor caught flashes of her thoughts- the Queen, standing amongst Zygons, a shocked expression on her face and a blush high on her cheeks.

“See, she told me their whole plan,” Rose said, eyes flitting between all three Doctors, “and I was trying to that thing you do, where you-”

Rose widened her eyes and straightened her posture, standing at an angle, chin jutting upwards and hands in her pockets. She wiggled her eyebrows for effect.

“I don’t do that!” the Doctor and Leather Jacket exclaimed at the same time.

Rose and Pinstripes ignored them both.

“-and I kind of blurted out that we were married?”

“What’d you do that for?” Pinstripes asked, incredulous.

Rose stopped, a stricken expression flashing across her face for half a second before she arranged her features into a mask of neutrality.

“Because we are,” Rose said.

“Aha!” cried Pinstripes, brandishing his sonic screwdriver at Rose. “I knew it! You did a routine scan of Rose’s thoughts when you took her form, saw her feelings for me, and made some assumptions! You know what they say about assumptions. You impersonated Elizabeth to try and get close to me, and when that didn’t work, you just went for the next best thing. Nice try, Zygon, but you’re not going to take over the Earth that way! That nonsense about stasis cubes isn’t even true, is it? Well, you messed with the wrong man. I am the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness, the-”

Rose’s eyes flashed with a bright, yellow light. With a yelp and a curse in Gallifreyan, Pinstripes dropped his sonic screwdriver like it was on fire.

“That’s one way to shut me up, I suppose,” Leather Jacket murmured. “Bringer of Darkness? Did you just pull that one out of your arse?”

“What are you?” Pinstripes asked Rose, eyes wide.

The Doctor reached down and swiped Pinstripes’s sonic screwdriver off the ground, pushing at his chest with it. Once Pinstripes had automatically taken the screwdriver in his hands, the Doctor thumped him over the head. “She’s my wife.”

Pinstripes rubbed his scalp, frowning. The Doctor’s words seemed to hit him a second too late, and he straightened, blinking frantically.

“But,” Pinstripes began, “how do you-”

“We’re _married,”_ the Doctor snapped. “And not just in the human sense, in the real sense. You think I can’t tell my wife from a Zygon?”

Not taking his eyes off his tenth incarnation, the Doctor spoke to Rose. _Sorry, love. What_ is _up with the eye-glowing thing, though? That’s new._

 _Dunno,_ Rose responded. _It’s been a weird day._

_No kidding. I’m so sorry about him. You know I’m useless without you._

Pinstripes turned to Rose, betrayal written on his features.

“You really-” his voice cracked.

Rose smiled, a small one, hesitation in her eyes. “Yeah.”

“How could you be so stupid?” Pinstripes hissed.

Rose flinched.

Pinstripes rounded on the Doctor. “I don’t expect her to understand. But you should’ve known better. You should’ve let her have a life, a normal life, with kids and a house and a-”

“You’re lucky you made up for being a massive git in the future,” Rose interrupted, eyes shining. “Because I ought to give you a slap for that.”

“Er,” Leather Jacket said, “Not that I’m not looking forward to…all this…but aren’t there Zygons in the 21st century that need to be-”

The room erupted in a bright flash of white light.

“Oh, bugger!” cried a feminine voice. “That _did_ hurt.”

The Doctor blinked hard to dispel the spots dancing in his vision.

“Osgood?” Rose asked.

“Rose!”

Rose was buried in a mountain of scarf as Osgood dragged her into a fierce hug. Rose cried out in surprise, but hugged her all the same.

Osgood pulled back, scanning the rest of the room. “Oh good, Doctor, we need to-”

Osgood trailed off, staring openmouthed at the three Doctors in turn. To her credit, she only spent a few seconds looking absolutely gobsmacked. After a quick puff of her inhaler, she squared her shoulders, turned back to the Doctor, and continued.

“Kate has been replaced by a shapeshifting alien,” she said, evenly and quickly. “So has McGillop, and there’s no telling how many others. You were right about the stone dust- the creatures that left the paintings, they smashed the statues and posed as them underneath sheets so they’d have somewhere to hide.”

The Doctor grinned- he _knew_ there was something up with the stone dust- but stayed silent, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Doctor,” said Osgood, “they’ve got into the Black Archive. If they’ve got Kate’s memories, there’s no telling what they might do.”

The Doctor and his two former selves stared at Osgood with identical expressions of horror.

“They want the Earth, they won’t destroy it,” the Doctor said. “At least not in the next five minutes. But where’s Kate? The human Kate?”

“I thought of that,” replied Osgood. “I told her the creatures were still in the Under Gallery. If we’re lucky, she won’t go anywhere near the Black Archive until we get back. She won’t have time to-”

“Kate _Lethbridge-Stewart,”_ the Doctor said to his former selves. “And knowing that family, knowing UNIT, she’s almost definitely about to blow up the city of London.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you think I handled this? Thanks for reading :D!


	9. Chapter 9

“No time to waste, then,” said Rose, adapting to the new information remarkably well.

The five of them raced into the hallway and down the stairs, eventually coming face to face with the tenth Doctor’s TARDIS. It was covered in bits of straw, the color faded, the windows dirty and yellowed.

Rose fished out the TARDIS key that she still kept on a chain around her neck and unlocked the door, heading in first.

Pinstripes dashed past her, flipping switches and turning knobs on the console’s grid.

Rose stood stock-still near one of the spindly coral-like columns, hand gently placed on the side.

“Hello, beautiful,” she murmured to the ceiling, soft enough that only the TARDIS (and the Doctor, who was standing right next to her) could hear. The TARDIS hummed and beeped in response.

“You’ve let this place go a bit,” said Leather Jacket, eyeing the smoke-heavy air and coral struts warily.

Rose startled visibly. Right- this was Leather from _before_ the end of the Time War. His TARDIS was probably still all blank white walls and squeaky clean floors. Rose had never known Leather Jacket before he was shrouded in grief and rage like a second skin.

“Ah, it’s his grunge phase,” said the Doctor, locking eyes with Rose, trying to silently get her to understand what he meant. “He grows out of it.”

Rose rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

“Don’t you listen to them,” Pinstripes said, giving the console an affectionate rub.

“Wow,” squeaked Osgood, turning around in a circle to get a view of the whole time ship.

The console sparked, making all of them jump. The entire room shuddered and warped until it looked startlingly different.

“The desktop is glitching!” cried Pinstripes.

“Three of us, all different ages,” said Leather Jacket. “She’s trying to compensate.”

The Doctor gleefully hopped over to Pinstripes, gesturing at the walls with a grin. Everything aside, the Doctor knew Pinstripes would be the only one who could appreciate this just as much as he did.

“Hey, look, the round things!” the Doctor half-whispered to Pinstripes, awed and excited.

Pinstripes didn’t make eye contact with the Doctor, but he responded all the same. “I _love_ the round things.”

“What _are_ the round things?”

Pinstripes managed a sort of half-smile that ended up looking more like a grimace. “No idea.”

A high-pitched ringing from the other side of the console drew the Doctor’s attention.

“Oh, dear!” he cried out, skidding across the floor to grab the offending handle. “The friction contrafibulator!”

The Doctor pulled the switch, and after another bright flash, the TARDIS was back to the one he knew and loved.

“Ha, there!” the Doctor exclaimed, arms raised in triumph. “Stabilized!”

“Oh, you’ve redecorated!” said Pinstripes.

The Doctor grinned, tentatively. Was he playing along, for all their sakes?

“I don’t like it,” Pinstripes grumbled, frowning in a way that looked abhorrent on his face.

The Doctor bristled. “Oh! Oh yeah? Oh, you never do.”

The Doctor was playing it up for effect, but a very small part of him was genuinely hurt. He couldn’t help but see each of his incarnations’ respective TARDISes as extensions of who they were. The Doctor knew Pinstripes’s disapproval was mostly directed inwards. But part of him couldn’t shake the feeling of shame brought on by being so vehemently disliked.

Osgood piped up. “I know the TARDIS runs on mainly huon and artron energy, but how do you keep the pranantic waveform properly antifrated, so that the reality quotient never exceeds zero point nine?”

The Doctor stammered for a moment, thoroughly taken aback, but the words rattling around in his brain eventually fell out of his mouth. “You have to keep the eco-chronoplasmic shell polarized by a differential of seven. The TARDIS is excellent at regulating herself, but whenever she needs maintenance specifically regarding vortex travel, you just need to fiddle with the balance in dimensions thirty-five through forty-two.”

Osgood nodded, rapt. “Does that take the muon-produced counter-magnetization thrust into account, though?”

“Yes,” the Doctor responded, feeling a bit like he’d just gotten whacked upside the head with a mallet. “It does.”

“Where on Earth did an ape like you learn words like that?” asked Leather Jacket, incredulous.

“Something you learn, when you get older,” the Doctor said, still running around, turning knobs and flipping switches. “Never underestimate a human being.”

The Doctor felt a wave of warmth and affection wash over him, all from Rose. He sent her the psychic equivalent of squeezing her hand in reassurance.

The Doctor kneeled down underneath the console and used his sonic screwdriver to open a compartment that had been there since 1973. It opened, reluctantly, for the first time in decades.

The Doctor pulled out the thick, bulky console, and switched it on, tuning the dials and banging it on the side a few times for good measure.

“Is that a telegraph machine?” asked Osgood.

“Sort of,” replied the Doctor. “I souped it up. Goes straight to UNIT, and if I’m right, the other end is currently sitting in the middle of the Black Archive with the rest of the Brigadier’s materials.”

With one last whack to the machine, it finally began working. Kate Stewart’s voice came through the speakers, tinny and half-obscured by static. “You’re bluffing.”

“You really think so?” said…also Kate Stewart.

Rose and the Doctor exchanged a worried glance. Osgood’s eyes widened, her shoulders near her ears and her skin tone slowly beginning to match the sterile white of her lab coat.

“Somewhere in your memory,” said one of the Kates, “is a man called Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. I’m his daughter.”

The Doctor sighed in exasperation.

He switched on the microphone, consciously restraining himself from destroying the entire device out of frustration. “Science leads, Kate. Is that what you meant? Is that what your _father_ meant?”

“Doctor?” asked a Kate, sounding very surprised.

Did UNIT not keep track of everything they stored in their super duper extremely explosive top-secret basement?

“Space-Time Telegraph, Kate,” the Doctor responded. “A gift from me to your father, hotline straight to the TARDIS.”

The Doctor propped an elbow up on the console, mashing his palm into his eye. “I know about the Black Archive and I know about the security protocol. Kate, please.”

The Doctor clasped his hands in supplication, even though Kate couldn’t see him. “Please, tell me you are not about to do something _unbelievably_ stupid.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” one of the Kates said, sounding anguished. “Switch it off.”

It wasn’t humanity that did this to people- was it the army? The government? Why did this always happen? Martha had done it, too. UNIT seemed to think the response to any alien encounter was immediate nuclear detonation. Like burning down all the houses on your street because you found a homeless person in your attic.

“Not as sorry as you will be,” snarled Pinstripes, leaning up close, directly across the console from the Doctor. “This is not a decision you will _ever_ be able to live with.”

The Doctor and his tenth self locked eyes. This wasn’t about UNIT, or the Zygons, or the Earth, and they both knew it. The Doctor looked away first.

The TARDIS rang out a dull, strained sound. The Doctor tried to get her to land again, but she resisted, sending everyone in the TARDIS staggering as she tilted to the left.

“Kate,” the Doctor snapped, rapidly losing what little patience he had left, “we’re trying to bring the TARDIS in. Why can’t we land?”

“I said, switch it off,” shouted Kate.

“No, Kate, please,” the Doctor yelled, “just listen to me!”

The Telegraph cut out, leaving only static behind.

“The Tower of London,” remarked the ninth Doctor. “Totally TARDIS-proof.”

“How can they do that?” asked Rose.

Pinstripes shrugged. “Alien technology plus human stupidity. Trust me, it’s unbeatable.”

The Doctor glared at him, before composing himself as much as he could and turning to Rose.

“I made a time flow analogue in front of the Brigadier, once,” explained the Doctor.

“Oh!” Osgood brightened with realization. “With the tea leaves?”

“Exactly. It’s like a radio scrambler for lots of things, including the TARDIS. You take a bunch of objects lying around the house, stick them together with tea leaves, it works like a charm. The Brigadier thought I was an idiot at the time, but I’ll bet anything he and his scientists figured out how to make another one once my back was turned.”

“What is it with you and tea?” Rose asked.

“Ah, it’s…” the Doctor responded, only a small percentage of his attention on the conversation, trying madly to figure out how they were going to get to the Black Archive in time. “It’s a wonderful thing, tea. Sweet…fragrant. Lots of…social norms built…around tea…all throughout the centuries-”

“We don’t need to land,” interrupted Pinstripes.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow in question. “Oh?”

“What reality are you lot living in?” asked Leather Jacket. “We don’t land, we can’t do anything to stop them.”

Pinstripes ran his hand through his hair, getting it to perk up slightly from its sad, flat state. “The Zygons were able to freeze themselves inside those paintings, the stasis cubes. We can send the TARDIS inside one of the paintings-”

The Doctor’s eyes widened in recognition. “Where it’ll be held in a single moment in time, in a parallel pocket universe.”

“Then,” Pinstripes continued, “we get a phone and call back in time to have a UNIT official move that painting to the Black Archive-”

Leather Jacket chimed in. “-before the Zygons have a chance to take over, and then we exit the painting just in time for events to remain in sequence. That’s brilliant, and it just might-”

Rose interrupted him. “Why can’t we just park right outside and walk, like, ten feet?”

All three Doctors paused, staring at her.

“I did…not think of that,” Pinstripes admitted, abashed.

“Yeah,” Rose said, staring right into Pinstripes’s eyes. “That’s what happens when you’re alone for too long, Doctor. You need someone to help you out. Keep you grounded. You underestimate the domestic approach, you’ll end up wandering in circles for the next three centuries.”

Pinstripes’s eyes looked shiny in the blue TARDIS lighting. Even more uncharacteristically, he was silent.

The Doctor pushed a lever upwards with each hand. The cloister bell rang out, followed by a dull thud. There they were, showed the console screens, right outside the door to the Black Archive.

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends,” said the Doctor, head bowed forward, gazing up through his eyelashes at each of his passengers in turn. “Once more, or close the wall up with our English dead.”

“Oh god, I hope not,” said Osgood frantically. “Please, let’s not do that last part. I could really do without a wall of English dead.”

The Doctor smiled softly. “I’ll do my best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment to talk to me about anything Doctor Who related, or to tell me what you thought!
> 
> And yes, the last few lines were a deliberate reference to this scene: https://youtu.be/W7bkLFRx7IU
> 
> When writing a comparably level-headed and emotionally mature 11, I'm trying to channel Crowley from Good Omens. I read a fic once where Crowley was approached by a bunch of little kids, and no matter how annoyed he got, he always answered every single question they asked- because Crowley knew how it felt to be told not to ask questions.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from the Ninth Doctor's point of view.

The Doctor followed Skinny and the Giraffe into a dimly-lit, cluttered room, Rose and scarf-girl hot on his heels. An alarm was sounding, and a red light flashing to go along with it.

The five of them reached an open space, a table in the centre of it. Two identical blonde women were staring at them, flabbergasted- that was probably the Brigadier’s daughter, at least originally. She seemed to have command of the room. Two identical men in lab coats stood behind them, along with a lone copy of scarf-girl.

“Hello,” said the Giraffe.

“I’m the Doctor,” said Skinny.

“And I’m here to keep you from blowing yourselves to smithereens,” finished the Doctor.

They seemed remarkably synchronized, considering their earlier bickering, the Doctor noted. He never was good at talking about things like his own emotions. But solving a problem? Working under fire, helping others to do good? That, all versions of him could wholeheartedly agree on.

The Giraffe got close to one of the blondes, his unlined baby face curling into a snarl. “Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, what in the name of sanity are you doing?”

“The countdown can only be halted at my personal command,” responded the other Kate. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“Except make you both agree to halt it,” said Skinny.

The countdown clock for the nuclear bomb kept ticking away across the room. 3:01. 3:00. 2:59.

“Not even for three of you,” said Kate.

The Doctor barked, “You’re about to murder millions of people.”

“To save billions,” said the Brigadier’s daughter, her mouth set in a harsh, determined line. “How many times have you made that calculation?”

The Doctor glanced at his other selves. They had, alright. The Doctor was the outlier here. No matter what he’d done, what he’d experienced, these two men had been shattered and hardened by something he had yet to do. They were him, alright, but so different that it was like they were someone else entirely.

“Once,” answered Giraffe, quietly. “Turned me into the man I am now. And because of what I did, I know how to tell if it needs to be done again.”

Skinny added, “I’d like very much to stand here and tell you that murder is always wrong. It is today, but not always. Not even close.”

The Doctor stared at them both, horrified and shocked and mesmerized enough that he couldn’t look away.

The Giraffe glanced at Skinny, something akin to respect on his face. “It’s true that sometimes you need to sacrifice yourself and everything you love in order to save the rest of the universe.”

“I made that decision, once,” rasped Skinny. “And it’s been eating me alive ever since, but it was the right one.”

The Giraffe kept moving from foot to foot, like he couldn’t keep still, even for a second. “When my home planet became overrun with Daleks, when the entire universe was threatened, I did what I had to do.”

“Daleks,” added Skinny, “are creatures genetically engineered to be without any empathy, any emotions other than bloodlust. They wanted to exterminate the universe. There was no hope of any negotiation.”

“But my decision is _not_ your decision,” snapped the Giraffe.

“The Earth can still be saved,” said Skinny, staring at the Brigadier’s daughter, eyes pleading. “Humans and Zygons both have empathy, a desire for survival and a better future for your children. This isn’t my war.”

“Here, now,” added the Giraffe, “both of your species are _people_ , in every way that matters.”

Skinny’s eyes kept darting back and forth between the still-dwindling countdown and the Brigadier’s daughter. “There is a compromise to be made that doesn’t have to end in any violence.”

“How could you know that?” asked Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, sounding exhausted.

“I know what I’m talking about,” answered Skinny, his voice quieting to a near-whisper. “I’ve seen and done more than you could ever imagine. And if you don’t like it, if you want to take it to a higher authority, there isn’t one. It stops with me.”

“I’m not better than you are,” added the Giraffe. “I’m just smarter, because I’ve been around for _so_ much longer.”

The two of them moved in tandem, each grabbing a chair from one side of the table and dragging it to the head, sitting down, propping their feet up, and crossing their arms. Above their heads, the countdown kept going. 1:25. 1:24. 1:23.

“Any second now,” said Skinny, sounding quite calm, considering the imminent threat of nuclear destruction, “you’re going to stop that countdown. Both of you, together.”

The Giraffe smiled. “And then, you’re going to negotiate the most perfect treaty of all time.”

“Safeguards all around, completely fair on both sides.”

“And the key to perfect negotiation?” the Giraffe asked.

“Not knowing what side you’re on,” answered Skinny.

Oh, certainly not. The Doctor had noted the memory filters lining the ceilings and walls in here. Typical of paranoid humans, wanting every precaution available while simultaneously being the most rash and irresponsible creatures in the universe. But when Zygons duplicated another living organism, they created a continuously-refreshing mental link. Were his older selves really planning what the Doctor thought they were? If they could enhance the power of the memory filters to at least 500%, they could muddy the memories of everyone here enough, using the pre-existing interspecies link, that they would be indistinguishable from each other, inside and out.

“So, for the next few hours,” said the Giraffe, he and Skinny rising from their chairs with a flourish, “until we decide to let you out-”

“-no one in this room will be able to remember if they’re human-”

“-Or Zygon.”

“Whoops a daisy!” cried Skinny, both of them leaping on top of the table, sonic screwdrivers brandished at the ceiling.

“Only one of you should do it,” called the Doctor. “If you both try, you’ll cancel each other out.”

His two older selves glanced at each other, frowning.

“Good point,” said the Giraffe. He bowed with a flourish to Skinny, sliding his own screwdriver into his pocket in a smooth, practiced move. “It’s all yours.”

With the first real grin the Doctor had seen on that face, Skinny activated his screwdriver. The memory filter sparked and smoked, and everyone in the room except for the Doctors and Rose clutched their heads and groaned. The Doctor turned to see Rose holding Osgood by the shoulders as her knees buckled.

The countdown kept going. At the 10 second mark, the two versions of the Brigadier’s daughter raised their heads, blinked their eyes blearily, and stared at each other.

“In a bit of a hurry, here!” prompted the Doctor.

Frantically, both Lethbridge-Stewarts turned to face the countdown screen.

“Cancel the detonation!” they cried in unison.

Everyone in the room let out a quiet sigh of relief. The screen was frozen at 0:05. It was done.

“Peace in our time,” murmured the Giraffe. He shot a warm smile over the Doctor’s shoulder. The Doctor glanced over, unsurprised to see Rose grinning back at her husband, eyes bright and shining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russell T Davies: Let’s write an episode about Pompeii that will serve as a direct analogy to help viewers understand why the Doctor had to destroy his own planet!
> 
> Steven Moffat: haha but how about no
> 
> Can you tell how bitter I am about the way the 50th ended? I needed to fix it, if for nothing other than my own peace of mind. How do you feel about the story so far? Enjoying the changes? Leave a comment below, if you'd like :)


	11. Chapter 11

_“What about your people?” Rose asked, walking down a crowded London street in 2005._

_“I’m a Time Lord,” he said. “I’m the last of the Time Lords. They’re all gone. I’m the only survivor. I’m left traveling on my own, cos there’s no one else.”_

_She knew he hadn’t wanted to tell her this. But it wasn’t the words that disturbed her, so much as the way he said them. Completely without emotion. Like it was a fact of life that he was always going to be lonely._

_“There’s me,” she said, hopeful and young and naïve and a little bit in love, all at once._

* * *

The six (three?) human and Zygon scientists were sitting down together around the table, several folders and papers strewn between them as they hashed out the details of accommodating the new species that would soon be taking up residence on Earth.

Giraffe and Skinny sat with them, occasionally chiming in, but mostly just sitting back and watching them do their work.

The Doctor wasn’t needed, here.

He began wandering around the labyrinthine room, finding himself beside a massive bulletin board filled with a photo array of all his past companions, all his family members and friends and reluctant allies and lovers. All of them dead, now. All of them gone. The ones that remained would be gone before long, the humans falling victims to time and the Time Lords falling victim to-

The Doctor let his eyes linger on his granddaughter’s features for a moment longer before moving on.

After passing by a Cyberman head in a glass case, a Dalek enhanced Tommy gun from the 1920s, and a set of magna-clamps, the Doctor found a hot plate, a collection of teabags, and a teapot, abandoned in a corner.

Hands shaking only slightly, the Doctor began to brew a pot of tea.

Once it was ready, he poured himself a cup, looking for a place to sit. Like he’d called for it, there was his tall leather chair from two regenerations ago, just sitting there. The Doctor huffed a laugh and took a seat, sipping at his tea.

“You look like you could use an ear.”

The Doctor glanced up, mid-sip, to see Rose looking down at him, head tilted to the side.

He forced a grin. “Nah, thanks, though. I think I’m a right eyesore with the two I’ve got.”

Rose grinned back, tentatively. She took a seat across from him, sitting on a backwards facing chair, hands folded over the top.

She stayed quiet, staring at him. The Doctor averted his gaze, taking another sip of his tea. She really did know him, he supposed. She knew to wait for him to speak.

“It’s so quiet here,” he said. “It’s strange.”

Rose made a dissenting noise. “It was pretty quiet in that barn on Gallifrey, I thought.”

“That’s because I went to the farthest corner of the planet,” the Doctor responded. His vision filled with images of all he had seen. “The rest of it hasn’t been quiet for some time, now. Fires are burning, and buildings that’ve been around for millennia uncountable are being blown to bits. People are dying, every second. The only quiet will come after they’re all dead. After I-”

The Doctor swallowed the rest of his sentence. When he glanced back up at Rose, she was staring at him, horribly concerned. Rose reached out, but when he quirked an eyebrow at her outstretched hand, she withdrew it immediately.

The Doctor still had so many questions. He wanted to try and start with an innocuous one.

“What’s Bad Wolf mean?” the Doctor asked.

Rose shifted in surprise. She took a deep breath, fiddling with the ends of her hair.

“Two hundred thousand years in the future,” she began, “I became the Bad Wolf because I love you.”

He scoffed at that, instinctively, instantly regretting it from the way her face fell.

“I did it because I wanted to save you, no matter the cost. You had thought you were doing what was right, sending me away when you were dealing with something dangerous, but I looked into the heart of the TARDIS and brought myself back to you. I lost the power, after that, but I think it came back to me, somehow. It knew you needed my help again. It’s not entirely under my control, but I think I know why I brought you here. You know too, don’t you?”

He did. He had for a while, honestly, but seeing his older selves sort everything here in the Black Archive just solidified it for him.

“Your husband,” began the Doctor, hesitantly, “he’s already done it. Murdered everyone on Gallifrey.”

Rose nodded, no fear or condemnation of any kind on her face.

There were much more important things to ask her about. But he had to know.

“How can you possibly love me, after…” His voice broke. The Doctor swallowed, forcefully.

Rose reached out again, this time taking the Doctor’s free hand in hers without hesitation. He nearly flinched back in surprise, but she wrapped her fingers through his, keeping him close. Her hand was warm.

“It’s not murder, Doctor,” she said softly, “not really. It’s the best decision in a world of horrible ones. You make the best decision you can under horrible, terrible circumstances that you had nothing to do with creating. It’s a terrible thing to have to do, but you’re doing it _because_ you’re a good person.”

The Doctor let out a hollow laugh. “A good person? I don’t know about that. I don’t…I’ve killed people, before. Bad people. And I didn’t hate it nearly as much as I should have.”

“God,” said Rose, a crooked smile on her face, “ten years ago, I would’ve run like mad in the other direction, hearing a bloke say something like that. But I’ve seen and done so much, now. That makes sense to me. That’s just being…”

The Doctor’s lips twitched. “Being human?”

Rose glared at him, without anything behind it. “Being _alive._ Having a brain, and a heart. Or two. You don’t always do the right thing, and you don’t always _want_ to do the right thing. But you try. You- you work with what you’re given. You don’t let things happen. You take a stand. You say no-”

“No more,” the Doctor murmured.

“Yeah, that’s right. You taught me that, Doctor. Look over there,” she said, glancing at the humans and Zygons on the other end of the room, working out a plan for the future. “Look what you’re going to do. Humans and Zygons, working together. Nobody’s going to die on Earth today, and it’s all because of you. You do this, and things like it, every day of your life. You’re known across the universe as the person who helps out when no one else can or will.”

“I’ve always done that because I enjoyed it,” replied the Doctor. “Because I liked going on adventures. You’re telling me those men do this because they enjoy it? Or because they’re wracked with guilt day and night, and they’ll do anything to try and make up for what they’ve done?”

Rose looked at him, anguished and concerned. He knew she could only be in her mid-thirties at most, but she seemed almost like him. Much older, and much more experienced in the goings-on of the universe than any person should be.

“Either way,” she said, “you’re doing good. And it’s not like you’ll never be happy again. It’s not all work. You have fun, too. You get to be happy again. You’re in an impossible situation, right now, but I promise it gets better. You make it better. And you find people who help you.”

“Like you?” the Doctor asked, inclining his head slightly, bringing himself just a bit closer to those big, brown eyes, filled with admiration. He knew Rose didn’t love him, _this_ him, not really. The Doctor didn’t even know this woman- he’d just met her a few hours ago. He was just so starved for affection, he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t let go of her hand.

Rose smiled at that. “I like to think so.”

The Doctor went back to his tea, his hand still clasped in Rose’s. As he drank, her eyes never left his face.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” he asked eventually, raising a single eyebrow.

She blinked a few times. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. It’s just...”

“Just?”

“Your eyes. You’re so much younger.”

The Doctor stared into his teacup. “Well, then. I reckon it’s time I grew up.”

Rose looked unbearably sad, but she nodded in agreement.

“Can you take me back now?” the Doctor asked.

Rose’s gaze became unfocused. She sat for a moment, brow furrowed, before her eyes flashed golden, and they were on Gallifrey again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think? Your comments and kudos make me really happy and very excited to hear from you :D


	12. Chapter 12

_“It didn’t just want me,” Amy muttered, “so you must believe in some god, or someone, or they’d have shown you the door, too. So what do Time Lords pray to?”_

_The Doctor didn’t answer, of course. He went off on a tangent about technology, mostly focusing on keeping himself from doing something stupid, like crying or breaking something or hurting someone beyond repair._

_Just like he always did, he pushed Amy and Rory away. Went to the trouble of getting them a house, just so they’d leave him be._

_As he flew the TARDIS back into the vortex, alone again, he stared at his own reflection._

_“If I believe in one thing,” he said to the darkness, “I believe in her.”_

* * *

The barn was exactly as they’d left it, filled with sunlight and peaceful silence. The box sat in the middle of the room, as innocuous and unassuming as ever.

The Doctor looked down at it, and chuckled.

Rose turned to him, confused. “What is it?”

“Still don’t know how to turn it on,” he remarked. “There’s never just a big, red button, is there?”

Like he’d summoned it, the box opened to reveal a rising metal staff, topped by a red gem the size of a fist. It was at the perfect height for him to press it. It would be, wouldn’t it. There was no making this a distant act- it was, and always would be, about him. This was his act to perform. His tale to tell. His soul to be damned.

“Are you ready?” Rose asked.

The Doctor stared at the button that glimmered in the light, waiting for his touch. “I was when I came in here.”

Rose was still holding his hand. Allowing himself one final second to savor it, he let go, moving across the room to the weapon.

“Right,” he said, eyes on the button, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “You’ve got to get out of here.”

Without looking at her, the Doctor knew what Rose’s face looked like. Eyebrows drawn together, head tilted, lips parted.

“I’m not gonna just leave you,” she responded, quietly.

“Rose,” he said, keeping his voice light and reassuring, “I’ll be alright. You know that better than anyone. Go back to your life. I’ll see you soon enough.”

It took her twelve seconds to figure it out. The Doctor almost laughed. He’d been betting on less.

“You’re going to do it,” she breathed, “but you’re going to let yourself get killed, too.”

“You need to leave, Rose. Right now.”

She didn’t move. The Doctor allowed himself a few heaving breaths, before looking up and snapping at her.

_“Go!”_

After a moment of standing there, frozen, Rose spoke up again.

“You know the sound the TARDIS makes?” she asked. Her voice seemed louder, somehow- more layered, and filled with power. “That wheezing, groaning? That sound brings hope wherever it goes.”

The Doctor bowed his head, eyes screwed shut. “Yeah. Yeah, I like to think it does.”

“To anyone who hears it, Doctor. Anyone, however lost.”

Faintly, the Doctor heard the sound of the TARDIS, getting louder and louder.

“Even you.”

Behind him, the Doctor heard two TARDIS doors open. In his peripheral vision, he saw Skinny and the Giraffe flank him on either side, the Giraffe standing next to his wife and taking her hand in his.

“Go away, now,” the Doctor rasped, grabbing the button with both hands. “All of you. This is for me.”

“These events should be time-locked,” muttered Skinny. “We shouldn’t even be here.”

“So something let us through,” concluded the Giraffe.

“I knew someone needed to talk to him,” Rose explained. “Someone other than me.”

The Giraffe huffed a laugh, so low and humorless it was more like a sigh. “Thank you.”

Skinny flinched in surprise, eyebrows knit. “What-”

“Read the writing on the box,” said the Giraffe, as even-tempered as ever.

_“Oh.”_

The Doctor’s hands were still braced on the button, gripping it like a lifeline. “Don’t worry. The time streams are all intact. I know what I have to do.”

“Doctor,” Rose began, “he wants to kill himself. You’ve got to talk him out of it. You’ve got to.”

Without a word, both of his older selves moved closer, standing directly in the Doctor’s line of vision.

“You’re going to feel like you’re not worth it,” said Skinny. “Like you’d be better off dead. And you’re right. You’d feel much better if you were dead. But your death isn’t something that happens to you. It’s something that happens to everyone else. And you can’t do that to them. You live because… they _need_ you. You keep going because you’re the only one that can save them, all over the universe and back again.”

The Doctor knew that. He did, honestly. But the button in his hands glistened apple-red. It would be so easy to just give into the temptation to end it, once and for all.

He glared up at Skinny, looking right into his deadened eyes. “You expect me to choose the miserable life you’re living now?”

“For them?” Skinny countered. “Yes, I do. And it gets better. A little. You’ll find people, sometimes.”

“You don’t look like you’re doing a very good job of it.”

“That’s because he doesn’t have Rose,” said the Giraffe, his true age- four hundred years older than the Doctor himself- finally showing through his misleadingly youthful exterior. “She makes you better.”

“You make me better, too, Doctor,” said Rose. “You always have.”

“I was with Rose, for a while,” croaked the Doctor’s tenth incarnation. “But then she was lost. And then, when I finally got her back, I ran away and left her. I told myself I was giving her a better life.”

Skinny gazed across the room, looking straight at Rose, pleadingly. “But as soon as I did it, I knew- I was just afraid. Didn’t think I deserved to be happy, like that. Didn’t want to risk it. I was a coward.”

“Your future’s not all dark, Doctor,” Rose added. “There are so many things you’re going to learn. So many people you’re going to meet, and save, and have fantastic adventures with.”

The Doctor didn’t know which one of them she was talking to, and it didn’t matter, not really.

The barn around them shimmered and darkened, slowly melding into a vision of the battlegrounds of Gallifrey.

“Rose, what are you doing?” barked the Doctor.

“Just look,” Rose said, glowing, the one beam of light in this desolate, war-torn landscape.

She had created a vision of Arcadia, just as the Daleks secured their victory. The streets were covered in bodies and blood. The few survivors were running for their lives, dodging explosions and grime and constant gunfire.

“Hell is empty,” muttered the eleventh Doctor, “and all the devils are here.”

“This can’t go on,” Rose said. “It needs to end. It’s the greatest mercy you can give them, and you know it. You’re not damned, Doctor. You’re saving everyone in the universe from a fate worse than death.”

The vision faded, gently, leaving the brightly lit barn in its wake.

On his left, the Giraffe stepped forward, placing his hand on top of the Doctor’s. “Never cruel or cowardly.”

On his right, Skinny followed suit. “Never give up. Never give in.”

The Giraffe turned to look at the Doctor, eyes piercing and full of understanding. “You’re not breaking that promise today, you know. None of us are.”

“You’re holding to that promise. You’re being the Doctor on the day it isn’t possible to get it right,” said Skinny.

“But this time-”

“-You don’t have to do it alone.”

The Doctor blinked, hard, and hot tears ran down his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“What we do today,” said the tenth, “is not out of fear or hatred. It is done because there is no other way.”

“And it is done in the name of the many lives we are failing to save.”

The Doctor turned to look at Rose, one final time. She was crying, too, but smiling at him, all the same.

“And out of hope for a better future,” finished the Doctor.

Together, the three Doctors pushed the button.

_I’m the lesser of two evils_

_Or am I, am I tricking myself nice?_

_If I’m the lesser of two evils_

_Who’s this man, who’s this act I hide behind?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think?
> 
> This was a really rough chapter for me to write. I really feel that the Doctor NEEDS to destroy Gallifrey- anything else is moral posturing and ridiculous continuity errors regarding the Doctor's emotional pain and development over the years.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and for sticking with me this far :)


	13. Chapter 13

_“It’s the oldest story in the universe, this one or any other,” the Doctor began, right into Rose’s ear, his arm around her shoulders. “Boy and girl fall in love, get separated by events, war, politics, accidents in time. She’s thrown out of the hex, or he’s thrown into it. Since then they’ve been…_ yearning _for each other, across time and space, across dimensions.”_

_He turned slightly to look her in the eyes, expression suddenly serious. “This isn’t a ghost story, it’s a love story.”_

_“We can help them,” Rose said. “Can’t we?”_

_The Doctor kissed her forehead. “Of course we can. No love stories ending in tragedy today.”_

_He let go of her and started forward, turning back after a moment, smiling. “Not on our watch.”_

* * *

The Doctor jumped backwards, whipping out his sonic screwdriver and scanning their surroundings. Yellow tendrils of light were spreading outward from the box, most of them running straight down. The ground beneath their feet was already shuddering.

“It’s massively unstable,” the Doctor exclaimed, hands flying around in quick, half-finished gestures. “We’ve only got a few minutes, maximum. We’ve got to go, right now.”

Leather Jacket still stood, hands braced on the button, his entire body shaking.

“I’m not leaving him!” Rose cried.

The Doctor let out a loud, exasperated sound. “Oh, for the love of-”

Pinstripes ran to the door of the barn, flinging it open and squinting out into the desert landscape. “I can’t see his TARDIS. Where the hell is his TARDIS?”

Rose darted forward, bodily yanking the ninth Doctor away from the box and forcing him to look into her eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed his hands, placing them on either side of her face. He just stood there, frozen, like he wasn’t even conscious. Rose closed her eyes, concentrating on forming the mental link.

“It’s miles away!” Rose cried, stepping away from the shell-shocked Doctor. “We’re never going to get to it in time!”

The Doctor grabbed his wife by the arm to get her attention. “Rose, you can bring it here.”

“Have you lost it? I can’t just-”

“You can. You’ve still got some residual power from the heart of the TARDIS, I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but you and the TARDIS are connected to each other. Call her.”

Rose glanced at Leather Jacket, conflicted. “But-”

Pinstripes stepped closer to the pair. “If you don’t do this, all of us will die. It’s a paradox. If his TARDIS never makes it off Gallifrey, neither of our TARDISes will, either.”

Rose nodded, tightly. She closed her eyes for a split second before opening them wide, the glow casting shadows on the crumbling ground underneath them.

The sound of the TARDIS filtered into the barn, slowly, forming in the corner.

The Doctor turned to the tenth, speaking quickly. “National Gallery, 23/11/13, at four. Meet us there.”

Pinstripes offered his older self a half-hearted salute, his gaze dark and worried. He spared one last furtive look at Rose before stepping inside his TARDIS and dematerializing.

Rose turned to Leather Jacket, an unshakably determined expression on her face.

“Doctor,” she snapped at the unresponsive man, “I need your help. I need you to get me out of here.”

Like he’d been plugged in, the ninth Doctor suddenly straightened, his gaze focusing on Rose’s face. Tentatively, he nodded.

“Alright,” he rasped.

Rose nodded decisively, like the matter was somehow settled.

“I’ll go with him,” Rose assured her husband. “We’ll meet you at the National Gallery.”

The Doctor opened his mouth, ready to protest, but one of the walls of the barn crumpled, falling into a fissure in the ground and crumbling to dust. The Doctor and Rose cried out and jumped away from it.

“The twenty-third of November,” Rose shouted over the noise, “2013, four in the afternoon, I’ve got it, I promise. I’ll get him there.”

 _We’re not using any time fissures,_ said the Doctor, _so we should be able to stay connected. Keep me updated, alright?_

_I promise._

On a planet about to self-destruct, standing on shaky, crumbling ground and three feet away from the most dangerous weapon in the universe, the Doctor cupped Rose’s face in his hands and kissed her, deep and firm.

He sent her one last rush of _staysafe-whole-protected-calm-goodluck_ before rushing into his TARDIS without a backwards glance.

* * *

The TARDIS cloister bell rang out, definitive and sure.

As soon as they landed, the Doctor crumpled, falling into the nearest seat that was bolted to the floor.

“We’re here,” he croaked. “National Gallery. Got the date and time right, too. You can go.”

 _Safe landing,_ she told her husband. A wave of relief washed over her. She smiled, slightly.

The white floors and walls unnerved her. It was far too bright in here to be her Doctor’s TARDIS. It seemed much more hollow than the one she was used to seeing with this Doctor’s face. More bright, revealing- none of that charmingly run-down mystery she remembered with fondness.

“Doctor…” she trailed off, stepping toward him, one hand outstretched.

He flinched away as soon as her fingertips came in contact with his leather jacket.

“I can’t hear them, Rose,” he whispered. “They’re all gone. They’re _really_ gone.”

Her heart broke for him. The Doctor- her Doctor- he’d told her about this, a little. Gallifreyans were a highly telepathic species. From a very young age, they were all linked to each other, inside their heads. Losing that hum of constant background noise all at once must’ve put him in unimaginable pain. And it didn’t seem to get better, over the years. He just got used to it.

Rose knew she needed to leave him. He needed to go on and live his life, meet her on his own terms. But she couldn’t bring herself to let him go, just yet.

“Come inside the gallery with me,” she murmured. “Have a cup of tea.”

The Doctor laughed, a low, bitter sound. “No. No more tea for me, Rose. Not today.”

Rose fidgeted in place.

“You’ll take care of yourself, right?” she asked shakily.

He grinned, but there was no warmth in his eyes. “Of course I will.”

Rose grabbed the Doctor’s shoulders and pulled him into a fierce hug. He sat there for a good long moment, muscles locked and body frozen, before slowly returning the embrace, his movements stiff.

“I won’t remember this,” the Doctor muttered into her ear.

Rose pulled back, confused. “What?”

He looked her in the eyes, gaze steady. “Once you leave. The time streams are out of sync. You warped time and space to get me to meet future versions of myself. The universe doesn't react well to anomalies like that. I won't be able to retain any of the information.”

His gaze became unfocused. “Guess that means I won’t have a clear memory of pushing the button, either. It’s for the best, that.”

She hesitated. Rose wanted to help him so badly, but she knew there was only so much she could do.

Rose spotted a pad of notepaper, attached slapdash to a corner of the console. The Doctor wouldn’t remember speaking to her, but that had nothing to do with notes. She could leave him a message.

She dashed over to it, finding a pen amongst the mess and clutter. Rose scribbled something down, shoving it in the Doctor’s coat pocket before he could see what she’d written.

“Rose,” he began, warning coloring his voice. “You can’t mess with the-”

“The continuity, I know. This won’t do that. I promise. It’s nothing personal, not really. Just a place you need to visit.”

Warily, he nodded.

Rose forced herself to grin. “Right then. I’ll be off, I suppose.”

She started toward the door.

“Rose,” he called.

She turned back to look at him, hand on the door handle. “Yeah?”

“I won’t remember this,” the Doctor repeated, “but you will. Some of it, at least. I just wanted to tell you- just, do one thing for me. Please.”

“Course I will,” she responded. “Course.”

What else could she possibly say?

The Doctor smiled at her, some genuine light and affection back in his earnest eyes. “Have a good life. Do that for me, Rose. Have a fantastic life.”

She nodded, turning around and stepping out the door before he could see that she was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that line pulled directly from the Parting of the Ways? Yes. Sue me. It's too good not to include.
> 
> This story is not over yet! So far there's only one chapter left, but it's going to be a long one. Thank you so much for sticking with this story for this long. Please comment below if you'd like- I love hearing from everyone to see what they think.


	14. Chapter 14

_“They’re people?” Rose whispered, at a crowded party in another universe._

_“They were,” responded the Doctor, looking startlingly skinnier than usual in his tuxedo, “until they had all their humanity taken away. That’s a living brain jammed inside a cybernetic body, with a heart of steel. All emotions removed.”_

_The Doctor wasn’t facing forward, but she was looking right at him._

_“Why no emotions?” Rose asked._

_The Doctor swallowed, hard. His gaze dropped to the floor. “Because it hurts.”_

* * *

“What is it actually called?” asked Pinstripes.

The two of them were standing in front of the Gallifrey Falls painting, which someone had hung on a wall in the National Gallery.

“Well, there’s some debate,” answered the Doctor. “Either 'No More,' or 'Gallifrey Falls'.”

“Not very encouraging,” Pinstripes grumbled.

Behind them, a third TARDIS began to materialize. Pinstripes jolted forward, but the Doctor caught his arm.

“She’s fine,” said the Doctor, “we should give them a minute.”

Pinstripes glanced back at him, confused. The Doctor tapped his own temple twice.

“Married, remember?”

Pinstripes turned to face the Doctor, a determined expression on his face. “The time streams are out of sync. You can tell me. I won’t remember it. Just- just tell me how you got her back. Please.”

The Doctor sighed. “You should’ve learned from Donna. A Time Lord consciousness can’t live in a human body. The Metacrisis died, the night after you left her there. She found her way back to me the same way she did the first time- slipped through the leftover cracks between dimensions. She slapped me, when she saw me again. Screamed a bit. Then snogged me silly.”

The Doctor knew he had a stupid smile on his face. Pinstripes’s eyes were roving over his face, looking for any sign of deception. Slowly, the faintest echoes of hope began to show up in his eyes.

“And you’re…how did you possibly-”

“I’m not entirely sure,” the Doctor answered, still grinning. “I think something about her biology changed on a genetic level when she looked into the heart of the TARDIS, all those years ago. The marriage bond worked.”

“Wait,” began Pinstripes, “if it’s a full marriage bond, are you telling me she’s-”

“Got an augmented lifespan? Maybe even immortal? No idea. Evidence points toward us having a few hundred years together, at least. After that…who knows?”

Pinstripes looked like he was trying to move from overwhelming grief to relieved joy and got stuck somewhere around the middle. “She’s cursed to your life.”

Rose’s voice sounded from the corner. “Don’t you ever say that.”

Behind where Rose was standing, the ninth Doctor's TARDIS was dematerializing. The Doctor couldn't blame him for not wanting to say goodbye.

Rose stalked forward, getting right up into Pinstripes’s personal space, eyes blazing with anger. The Doctor suppressed a laugh at how thoroughly intimidated he looked.

“I know eventually I get it through your thick skull,” Rose continued. “but you haven’t gotten there yet. So I’m going to say it slowly: I’m not a child. I know what I want. And I’m never going to leave you.”

Pinstripes stared at her for a long time- long enough that the Doctor was beginning to get antsy.

Slowly, like it hurt his face, Pinstripes grinned at her.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, very quietly.

Like that was the last straw, Rose threw her arms around his chest. Pinstripes let out a small _oof_ at the impact, immediately hugging her back. He started laughing, a clear, confident whoop, hugging Rose so hard that her feet lifted off the ground. Pinstripes spun them around in a small circle, both of them giggling.

Like it was contagious, the Doctor felt a feeling of love wash over him, so strong his knees almost buckled. He didn’t know if it was from Rose, if he was gaining this memory from the past, or if it was just his own feelings, overwhelming in the absolute best way.

Gradually, the two of them separated. Glancing at Pinstripes’s absolutely besotted expression, the Doctor couldn’t bring himself to be jealous. When he was that age, he would’ve given anything to see Rose again.

Pinstripes took a step back, his smile drooping somewhat. “Guess I’ll be leaving, then.”

“Do you have to go so soon?” Rose asked.

Pinstripes chuckled, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. “If I don’t go now, I’ll never leave. And I don’t belong here. Not like this, at least.”

“Take care of yourself,” Rose pleaded. The Doctor didn’t have the heart to tell her that Pinstripes wouldn’t remember a word of this.

Pinstripes nodded, before stiffly turning around and opening the door to his TARDIS.

“And Rose?” he called, turning around one last time. “Don’t get too cross with him when he acts like a git. He loves you too much to mean anything by it. He just needs you to set him straight.”

“I know,” she responded, a bittersweet smile on her face.

With one last nod to the Doctor, Pinstripes stepped inside his TARDIS and disappeared.

Rose’s eyes filled with tears. The Doctor folded her into his arms, saying nothing. They stood there for a good, long while.

* * *

Gallifrey was gone. And he was the one that had killed them all.

If he concentrated, he had a few vague memories of how he went about destroying his home planet and everyone on it. But much more telling was the complete lack of any other minds connected to his own. If he didn’t have the low, soothing telepathic hum of the TARDIS, the Doctor didn’t know if he’d be able to function.

“It’s just the two of us, now, old girl,” the Doctor murmured, running a hand down the console. “We’re the only ones left.”

The TARDIS sparked and groaned in response, a few of the under-circuits letting out white plumes of smoke. She’d been through so much, lately- she deserved some serious maintenance work. Maybe she’d even kick him out for a day, refurbish her insides and change the desktop altogether.

The Doctor would take some time to mourn, out of respect, if nothing else. But then, he had to move on. He had adventures to go on. People to save. Conflicts to resolve.

The Doctor stuck his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and frowned. There was a scrap of paper in there that he had no memory of holding onto. He pulled it out, uncrumpled it, and read what was written there: unfamiliar handwriting, Earth English, black, felt-tip pen. The paper was his own- he remembered picking it up at the Frenko Bazaar just last week.

That was somewhere to start. The Nestene Consciousness couldn’t be allowed to just eat up the human race. Someone needed to stop it.

If the person who left him this note was an enemy, he’d be prepared. If it was a friend…

The Doctor pushed his hope to the side. He didn’t have any friends. He’d just gone and murdered all the ones that weren’t already six feet under.

He punched the coordinates into the TARDIS, braced his feet against the floor, and pulled the lever to take off, once again.

If nothing else, he’d at least have something to do.

* * *

“Right,” Rose said, stepping back and wiping at her running makeup. “I’m going to go get cleaned up, yeah?”

“I’ll go with you,” said the Doctor, immediately starting forward.

She shrugged. “I’ll just be a mo’.”

He caught a stray thought from her that he almost definitely wasn’t meant to hear. _I just need a moment alone._

“Okay,” he said, nodding fiercely. “No problem. No problem at all. You take as long as you want. Use those makeup wipes with the shea butter. I really like shea butter. You know, there’s a planet where their major export is buckets of butter made from-”

That startled a laugh out of her. The Doctor smiled, tentatively.

Rose walked to the only remaining TARDIS in the room and unlocked the door, closing it behind her.

The Doctor stared at the painting he was still standing next to. A small plaque on the side read, _Courtesy of the Curator of the National Gallery._

“I could be a curator,” mused the Doctor. “I’d be great at curating. I’d be _the Great Curator_. I could retire, and do that.”

“You know,” echoed a voice from behind him, masculine and harsh and Scottish, “I really think you might.”

An older man with a shock of grey curls and a drawn, owl-like face was approaching him. His starched, white collared shirt was buttoned up to the neck, no tie of any kind to be seen. As he walked, his black jacket swished open to reveal a red, silken lining. The curator, the Doctor supposed. But there was something about him- the Doctor couldn’t put his finger on it, but this man was undoubtedly familiar.

The Doctor turned to face him head on, head tilted to the side, considering. “I never forget a face.”

The curator smiled, slightly, like he knew something the Doctor didn’t. “I know you don’t. You know, they say the name you choose is a promise you make. I think your face can be that, too.”

The curator stepped forward, stopping beside the Doctor, hands clasped behind his back. The Doctor gazed at him, impossibly curious, but eventually turned away. Together, they gazed at the painting that immortalized all the pain and suffering of Gallifrey in one, single moment.

“You were curious about this painting, I think,” said the curator. “I acquired it in remarkable circumstances. What do you think of the title?”

“Which title?” asked the Doctor. “There’s two. ‘No More’ or ‘Gallifrey Falls.’”

The curator scoffed, swatting the Doctor on the shoulder, hard. “No. Stupid.”

 _Ow_ , mouthed the Doctor, rubbing his arm.

“That’s where everybody’s wrong,” continued the curator. “It’s all one title: ‘Gallifrey Falls No More.’”

The curator turned to look at the Doctor, one of his impressively bushy eyebrows raised in question. “Now, what would you think that means?”

The Doctor stopped, and thought.

“It’s in the past,” the Doctor realized. “I don’t have to…the Time War is over and done with, now. I can move on.”

The curator smiled at him, his eyes filled with a deep, quiet joy. “I’m only a humble curator. I’m sure I wouldn’t know.”

“It’s a reminder. To keep going. To let myself be happy.”

The curator tilted his head, consideringly. “Up to you, I think. Your choice. I can only tell you what I’d do if I were you. Imagine that? Perhaps I was you, of course. Or perhaps you are me.”

The older man leaned forward, sticking out a hand for the Doctor to shake. “Congratulations.”

The Doctor laughed, taking his hand heartily. “Thank you very much.”

The curator had a very firm grip. A bulky, silver ring with a green stone cut into the Doctor’s palm as they shook hands.

This place was absolutely crawling with UNIT scientists who made it their life’s work to know everything about the Doctor. This man was probably another fan, like Osgood. The Doctor saw no harm in indulging him.

“Now that’s a funny thought,” the Doctor added, still laughing a bit. “My eyebrows were so delicate this time around that they decided to become sharp enough to take the tops off bottles.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” said the curator, adopting a strange American, Southern twang.

The curator sighed, smoothing his jacket down with both hands. “And now, you must excuse me. Oh, you have a _lot_ to do.”

“Do I?” asked the Doctor, excited.

The curator nodded. “The universe is full of possibilities, if you know where to look. Who knows what you’ll do next? Who _knows?”_

The curator walked away, his stride strong and purposeful. The Doctor turned back to the painting, a small smile playing on his lips. Faintly, he heard the sound of the TARDIS dematerializing. He turned, shocked, but his TARDIS was right where he’d left it.

Rose poked her head out of the door, an eyebrow raised. Her face was free of makeup now, and her tears dried. She smiled warmly at him. “You ready?”

“Yes,” answered the Doctor, still taken aback. “Yes, I think I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you so much for reading this entire story!!! Words cannot express how happy I am about the following this story has gotten, and about all the wonderful comments and praises I've gotten from all of you. 
> 
> In case you missed it, the note Rose gives the Ninth Doctor describes the Nestene Consciousness, which is the creature the Doctor and Rose battle in their first adventure together. That first episode, "Rose," aired on March 26th, 2005.
> 
> And yes, the curator is absolutely meant to be the Twelfth Doctor.
> 
> To keep you in the sappy, romantic mood, I recommend listening to this song: https://youtu.be/2yN4-E81wdc
> 
> Comments and kudos are extremely appreciated, as always. All my love to everyone who climbed inside my imagination, if only for a short while. <3


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